Sacred Revenge
by rebelrsr
Summary: A new prophecy sends Willow and Faith to New York. Will they be able to prevent the ancient prediction from occurring?
1. Chapter 1

Summary: A new prophecy sends Willow and Faith to New York. Will they be able to prevent the ancient prediction from occurring?

Disclaimer: I don't own them; I just wish I did.

Spoilers: For BtVS…nothing except some minor references. Set post-Chosen with no ties to the S8 comic. For L&O:SVU…Begins with S9's "Alternate." I've used the character Chester Lake, with a few not-so-minor changes. There may be some references to canon episodes later.

Rating: NC-17, eventually

Feedback: Please. This is a new fandom. The muse and I would like to know how we're doing.

Archiving: By permission only

CHAPTER 1

Footsteps pounded on the concrete path.

"Police! Stop!" a female voice shouted out of the poorly lit gloom.

Grabbing Willow, Faith ducked behind a stand of bushes. "Fuck. I thought you said no one came to the Park after dark."

The footsteps got louder, and a lone figure sprinted by.

"That's him," Willow hissed.

"I know that, Red. I'm a Slayer, remember?" Faith pulled a stake from her pocket and crept forward.

More footsteps sounded.

Freezing in place, Faith glanced up. Two more people ran down the path, slowing as they reached the area illuminated by the single light pole.

"Do you see him?" the shorter woman inquired. She breathed in ragged pants, right hand gripping the butt of her gun.

The second woman was less winded. "No. But there aren't any branching paths. He has to be ahead of us."

As they talked, Faith's senses pinged. Their prey was doubling back and getting close. The wood dug into her hand as she clutched the stake.

"Damn it. I can't believe he got away." The shorter woman pulled a radio unit from her belt. "Dispatch, this is Benson. Be advised the suspect is on foot in Central Park between the 100th and 97th Street exits." She jammed the bulky piece back into place. "Stay here, Lake. I'll see if I can flush him out."

Still hidden in the bushes, Faith wanted to growl. The cops were making this much harder than it needed to be. If they'd just been a few steps slower… She watched the cop jog down the path and scanned the darkened area on the other side of the path.

The vampire was close. Too close.

The remaining officer paced restlessly, hand going to her gun and then her side.

A branch snapped, the sound unbelievably loud.

"Police! Come out where I can see you; hands up." The gun cleared the holster as the woman spun to face the noise.

Faith looked in that direction, too. The cop was about to get taken down. She tried to see or feel the approaching vampire. There had to be a way to dust him without alerting the woman to their presence in the park.

Before she could come up with a plan, though, Benson came back. "Nothing. Not a sign of him. It's like he vanished."

A grim smile twisted Faith's lips. _No,_ she thought. _Not yet. Give me a minute and a clear shot_.

Lake slowly relaxed and holstered her weapon. "You sure? I thought I heard something over here."

"That why you were about to shoot a tree, rookie?" There was an edge of patronizing humor in Benson's voice as she moved closer. "The Captain hates filing paperwork when we kill the flora."

Watching the byplay, Faith almost missed the increased cramping in her senses.

She realized what was happening just as a dark shape stepped onto the path behind Benson.

Willow's soft whisper sounded in her ear, and the light over the path exploded and went out.

"What the fuck?" Benson demanded.

Faith didn't wait for her to grab a flashlight. Standing from her crouched position, she threw the stake at the vampire. Only her enhanced sight allowed her to see his yellow eyes widen in surprise when the wood embedded itself in his chest. He dropped to the ground in tiny particles of ash.

Ducking back into the bushes, Faith squirmed toward Willow and waited.

A click broke the silence, and a narrow beam of light cut the darkness. "Where did he go this time?" Benson demanded. She panned the path with her flashlight. "I saw him right there." The illumination paused on the spot the vampire had been standing. "You saw him, too, didn't you?"

"As much as I'd like to say you imagined it…" Lake turned on her own light and pinpointed the same area. "He was right there, and we were about to get our asses kicked."

"We had guns. He didn't." Benson didn't seem nearly as concerned about the near attack. "Fuck. Cragen's going to kill us. We just let a murder suspect get away."

Lake chuckled. "I'm gonna be glad you're the ranking detective. You can explain how he was there one minute and gone the next. Poof." She started back up the path, Benson at her shoulder.

When they were out of earshot, Faith and Willow climbed out of their hiding place.

"A little close, weren't you?" Willow griped, brushing off her pants and shirt.

The question had Faith grinding her teeth. "You said we had to protect her. She's still breathing, ain't she?"

She watched Willow purse her lips. "Yes, but-"

"But nothing, Red. The cop's alive; the vamp is dead. I say we did a good night's work." Faith spun and stalked up the path.

"What if they'd seen something, Faith? How were you going to explain being in the park with a nice pointy object?" Willow wasn't giving up. She trotted alongside Faith and fired off more questions. "Did you think they wouldn't check out the armed ex-con in the bushes? Better yet: what if they'd seen the vamp get dusted? Maybe I could have waved and said: 'Don't worry; he was already dead.'"

If Faith had had any other way back to their hotel, she would have taken off. "Stupid fucking prophecy," she mumbled. Why couldn't Giles' book have mentioned Buffy? Why her? Head pounding in frustration, she marched to the rental car they'd left at a meter. "Get in," she snapped, pressing the key remote.

Green eyes narrowed. "You aren't driving." Willow held out her hands for the keys.

"Red…" Faith drawled the word warningly. _Push just a little more. Come on, _she dared silently. The remote creaked in protest at her grip.

"Fine." Willow stalked past her and yanked open the passenger door. "Just don't get pulled over. I still haven't gotten your records cleared. One traffic stop, and you'll be back in a jumpsuit and handcuffs."

Like she was likely to forget that. Faith fired the engine with a more enthusiasm than necessary, and the roar echoed the one deep inside. "You ever gonna get to that? I mean, Sunnydale's been a hole for almost six months now."

She saw Willow frown out of the corner of her eye. "I'm working on it."

"You're a fucking genius, Red." Faith pulled the car onto Central Park West and headed toward their Midtown hotel. "How hard can it be? Hack the California Department of Corrections and delete my name." She risked a quick glance across the interior of the car. "Or…are you trying to say you don't want to?"

Willow didn't say anything. She simply shifted in the seat and looked out the window.

* * *

Chelsea Lake shifted uncomfortably in her chair and listened to the intense conversation between her new partner and her new boss.

"Damn it, Olivia. You had him. What the hell happened?" Cragen slammed a hand onto his desk, and the pencil cup toppled. No one moved to pick up the rain of sharpened writing tools as they cascaded to the floor.

Glaring back, Olivia threw up her hands. "I don't know."

It was the wrong answer.

Trying to meld with the cheap faux-leather under her, Chelsea held her breath. The captain's face was red, and he looked ready to explode.

"He was there. Lake and I saw him. Then the damned light went out, and when we got our flashlights out, he was gone. No trace." Olivia seemed to dare Cragen to comment, hands dropping to her hips.

Afraid to blink, Chelsea waited.

"All right." Cragen slumped back into his chair. "Where do we go from here?"

"We can try running down McLaren's old contacts." Shrugging, Olivia looked at Cragen. "I just don't think they're going to be much help. He was declared dead over thirty years ago. Nothing we found the first time indicated anyone in his circle of lowlife cronies even knew he was alive."

Still not convinced it was a good idea to get involved in the conversation, Chelsea tentatively cleared her throat. Two pairs of eyes immediately looked her way.

"You have something to say, Detective Lake?" Cragen regarded her with raised eyebrows.

Praying her darker skin hid the blush she could feel burning her cheeks, Chelsea nodded. "You know, the perp we chased into the park…when he came out of the bushes, he didn't look like a fifty-year old man."

The eyebrows got closer to Cragen's missing hairline. "What _did_ he look like?"

Saying anything had definitely been a bad decision. "He looked like he did in the original crime scene photos," Chelsea forced herself to say. She flashed back to the brief glimpse she'd gotten of McLaren's face in the park. "Young. Healthy." Flicking a look at Olivia, Chelsea added, "He sure as hell didn't run like an old man, either."


	2. Chapter 2

"Huh. You know, Captain, she's right." Olivia moved wearily over and dropped into the chair next to Chelsea. "Whoever that was couldn't have been McLaren."

Chelsea rode the wave of confidence she got from Olivia's response and asked, "His son?"

"He didn't have any kids we could find." Olivia's eyes were half closed, dark circles marring the skin below. "I guess we could have missed something."

No way was Chelsea commenting on that thought. "Want me to call the wife in for an interview?" she asked instead.

Olivia roused enough to shake her head. "Definitely not. She's not real fond of us. When Elliot and Fin were there last week, she threatened a harassment lawsuit. Seems after thirty years of widowhood, Mrs. McLaren doesn't want to be bothered with questions about the not-so-dearly departed." She grinned mirthlessly. "You really want to tell her we think her dead husband might not be rotting in his casket?"

"Is Novak working on the exhumation request?" Cragen's chair creaked as he swung around and stood up. Hands pressed to his lower back, he stretched. "I'm assuming the wife didn't give us permission to dig McLaren up."

"Good assumption." Chelsea nearly chuckled at the wry sound to Olivia's voice. "According to Fin, that's when the good Mrs. McLaren started wildin."

Shoving his hands into his pockets, Cragen asked, "Do I even want to know what that means?"

Olivia's smile turned genuine. "Ah…I'd ask Fin. I'm sure the description would lose something in translation."

"I'll just read his report." Cragen came around his desk and leaned against the section between Chelsea's chair and Olivia's. "Go home, detectives." When they both sat up and started to protest, he held up a hand. "That's an order. Come back tomorrow. We'll look at this with fresh eyes. I'll leave a message for Novak. She can update us on exhuming the body."

Chelsea thought Olivia wasn't going to cooperate. Jumping from her chair, she met the Captain's eyes. "I'm out of here, then. Come on, Benson. I'm too tired to listen to your posturing."

Not waiting for Olivia's reply, she strode from the room and headed straight for her desk.

"Looks like it didn't go too badly, Lake." Sergeant Munch regarded her from over the top of his steepled hands. "You aren't bleeding or vowing to quit."

"Give me some credit, Sarg." Chelsea winked at the older man. "I just sat back and let Benson handle it."

He laughed. "You might make it yet."

"Hate to break it to, gramps," she teased. "I haven't been a real rookie in years. You keep forgetting my stint in Brooklyn SVU."

Munch's grey eyes bore into her. "I didn't forget. This isn't Brooklyn, rookie. We'll see if you can survive sex crimes in Manhattan. You make it to Christmas, and I'll consider giving you a new nickname."

The slam of Cragen's door cut off any reply Chelsea might have made.

Olivia stormed through the maze of desks and grabbed her coat from the back of her chair. Without a word, she stuffed her arms into the leather sleeves and stalked from the squad room.

"Ah…Liv's in a good mood. Lucky you to be her new partner," Munch commented sardonically.

Chelsea ignored him, watching the door's into the squad swing back and forth. Why was Olivia so angry? It couldn't just be the order to go home. "I'm heading out, Sarg. You want me to bring you a coffee from Starbuck's before I go home?"

"Flattery and gifts will get you anything you want, Lake." Munch went back to work on the pile of paperwork on his desk. "I'm good with the swill they call coffee here, though. Get some sleep. With Liv in a mood, you'll need it."

"See you tomorrow, then." Wrapping up in her own coat, Chelsea followed Olivia out the doors.

Thirty minutes later, Chelsea hopped out of the cab and paid the driver. Keys jangling, she trotted up the stairs to the front door of her building. She'd just unlocked the heavy metal door when a voice called her name.

She spun, peering through the darkness, hand on the butt of her gun.

A man stepped out of the shadows near the stairs. "You are Chelsea Lake?"

"Who's asking?" Chelsea unsnapped the holster guard and gripped the sculpted metal more tightly.

"Are you Chelsea Lake?" the man demanded again.

Examining the man closely, Chelsea recognized the high cheekbones and dark complexion she bore. That small bit of familiarity didn't stop her from slowly shifting so that her back was to the brick façade of the building or scanning the sidewalk for more people.

The man's eyes fell to the hand on her gun. His own hands rose in the universal symbol of surrender, palms out from his body. "Forgive me. I did not mean to scare you. My name is Anshu, and I have a message from your grandmother."

Chelsea relaxed a little. "I'm sorry. You must be looking for another Chelsea Lake. I don't have any family." The string of foster families in her past was proof of that.

Grimacing, Anshu lowered his hands, stuffing them in the pockets of his coat. "I know about the homes, Chelsea. They were…a way for us to protect you. We did not mean to cause you pain, only to keep you safe."

Back on full alert, Chelsea slid her right foot a few inches toward the door. If she could get inside…

Anshu didn't give her a chance to open the door, though. "Wait! Please!" He must have seen her move. Lunging forward, he gripped her shoulder and pinned her to the building with his body. "Forgive me, but we don't have any time to waste. Your grandmother and Takarihoken are gone. You must return home."

* * *

Faith marched ahead of Willow into the hotel. Damn Giles and the New Council. The cheap bastards stuck her in this Ramada and wouldn't spring for separate rooms. She needed a few minutes alone. Time to get her emotions back under control. "I'll be in the bar if you need me," she said tersely.

"No, you won't." Willow gripped her arm.

Freezing in place, Faith tried not to lash out at the touch. "Let go, Red." She was proud of the fact her voice stayed quiet. "I need a drink after our night on the town."

"Faith." Voice equally soft, Willow maneuvered Faith out of the lobby traffic. "We have to call Giles and let him know what's happening."

"Nothing happened, Red. Nothing." Wrenching her arm away, Faith leaned in close and glared at Willow. "We followed the cop. I killed a vamp. That's it. No big bads, no magical firepower. Just one lousy vampire."

The green eyes staring into hers didn't give an inch. "That's right. One vamp. Where are the rest of them? The prophecy mentioned a whole tribe of them. The Council has another dozen Slayers on the way here. Maybe we translated the text wrong. Maybe the vampires aren't here in New York. We need to let Giles know."

They were getting nowhere. Surrendering to Willow's logic and tenacity, Faith nodded shortly. "Fine. Let's go call the Head Tweed."

Willow led the way to the elevator and then to their room.

Simply following along, Faith continued to brood over the conversation in the car. So Willow didn't want to help with her record. That hurt. A lot. Faith scowled as she walked down the carpeted hallway. Hadn't she shown that she'd changed? Surely not even Willow could still be holding a grudge over that knife to the throat thing.

"Can you grab my laptop?" Willow asked once they were inside their small room. "I'll need it to set up the video conference.

The bag was under Willow's side of the bed – in case the housekeeping crew had sticky fingers, she'd informed Faith that morning. Dropping to her knees, Faith dug out the backpack-shaped carrying case. "Here ya' go, Red." She didn't _quite_ toss the computer onto the bed.

"Thanks." The reply was garbled by the cables dangling from Willow's mouth as she peered at the back of the television.

Faith watched as Willow plugged in the multi-colored connectors and turned the TV around to its original position. She set a small webcam 'eye' on the flat top of the unit.

The laptop was next. The other ends of the wiring fitted into ports on the computer. "We're ready," Willow announced. The screen in front of her flickered and the familiar logo popped up. "You have to stay close to the bed or they won't be able to see you."

That was a bad thing? Rolling her eyes, Faith climbed onto the bed and shifted so she sat against the headboard. "Got it, Red. Will this do?"

The sound of Willow's fingers on the keyboard was her only answer.

Minutes later, Giles' office appeared first on the computer and then the TV.

"Ah, you arrived safely, I see." Giles came into view, face huge and indistinct on the screen.

"Yeah, we're here." Faith waited to see if Giles would figure out he was too close to the camera. The fascinating view of his facial pores didn't change. "Step away from the camera, Tweed. Me and Red don't really need to see you that up close and personal."

His head moved abruptly, and the view became a more normal one of his face and upper body. "Is this better? I thought the camera had only a limited range."

Willow raised her head from the keyboard, and Faith sensed techno-babble on the way.

Rushing to cut off the explanation of the webcam, Faith interjected, "We saved the cop from a vamp tonight. Red thinks we have a problem, though."

Just like that, the other two members of the videoconference forgot about the camera.

"What kind of problem?" Giles's body shifted and a large book appeared in the foreground of the image on the screen. "Should I have more Slayers and Watchers en route?"

"No, Giles." Willow shifted on the bed, drawing her legs up Indian style. "I…I think we made a mistake. Ms. Lake didn't seem to know about vampires, and we only saw the one Faith killed. Are you sure the text refers to a tribe or an army?"

The sound of Giles turning the pages of his book was loud in the small hotel room. "Yes, Willow. I believe the translation is correct." He read aloud from the text, "And when the last heir to the Takarihoken must choose a new Confederate Lord, beware the sister clan and their tribe of undead warriors."

A/N: I've been doing a lot of research on the Mohawk people and their traditions. Most of the information mentioned here (and later) comes from a translation of the Constitution of the Iroquois Confederacy. Any mistakes are mine and are in no way meant to defame the Mohawk culture. I would welcome any suggestions regarding my use of the Constitution.


	3. Chapter 3

"I got a question," Faith interjected when Giles seemed intent on reading the entire prophecy again.

Giles' startled eyes shot up from the pages of the book, and Willow's head snapped around as she stared at Faith.

Faith smirked. "Yeah, I know. I usually just sit and let the two of you do all the work. That don't mean I ain't paying attention." Pausing for a second, she let that sink in before going on. "Anyway, we all keep thinking 'undead' means vamps. Aren't there other demons or whatever that qualify for that title?"

She thought for a second that Giles might topple out of his desk chair. His mouth worked soundlessly while his hands reached up to remove his glasses from their perch on his nose. Finally, a pained, "Good Lord," emerged from the television speakers. "How did we miss that?"

A hand waved in the air. "I think I can answer that one," Willow answered wryly. "We always think vampire first." She shook her head. "If the passage _does _refer to something other than vamps, I'm drawing a big blank. The only undead without fangs I can think of is a zombie." Willow looked at Faith. "We really, really want it to be vampires, if that's the case."

"There are various types of zombies, ghosts, and mummies," Giles mumbled as he stared sightlessly at the camera and cleaned his glasses. "I'll have the research corps begin looking for other examples, and I, myself, will attempt to find someone to assist me with the translation. If you are correct, Willow, and Ms. Lake is not familiar with vampires and other demons, perhaps I have missed something in the prophecy."

"What does that mean for us, Tweed? You want us to…" Faith broke off when her cell phone rang. Pulling the unit from her pocket, she peered at the display. "Fuck. It's Nicole. We may have a problem," Faith announced before she answered the call.

* * *

Anshu's move was a surprise, and Chelsea grunted when her back slammed against the brick façade of the building. He was big and muscled. Chelsea squirmed against him.

Her training finally kicked in. Planting one foot against the wall, she shoved forward. Chelsea didn't have enough leverage to topple Anshu backward; however, the move did force him to change his stance and resettle the hands gripping her arms. It was the opportunity Chelsea needed.

As his hands loosened, she jerked away and bent at the waist. Driving her shoulder into his stomach, Chelsea forced him back. Anshu's feet slid in the slushy snow on the landing, and he toppled down the stairs to the sidewalk.

Not bothering to reach for the gun holstered beneath her coat, Chelsea fitted her key into the door lock and hurried inside. She stayed there, resting against the heavy metal door, for a long minute. "What the hell was that all about?" she mumbled to herself.

The door rattled then banged into her back.

Chelsea pushed away and drew her weapon. Finger resting along the trigger guard, she waited tensely for Anshu to enter.

A coated figure staggered through the door.

Her finger dropped inside the guard, touching the cool metal of the trigger.

"It's too fucking cold." The figure rubbed red, chapped hands over leather-encased arms, and Chelsea's gun slowly lowered. She hadn't had time to re-holster her weapon when Mr. Romero, her next door neighbor, looked up. His eyes widened and his hands shot up over his head. "Don't shoot!"

With exaggerated motions, Chelsea returned the gun to her holster and snapped the guard closed. "Sorry, Mr. Romero. I had some trouble on the way in. I thought you were the guy trying to get inside."

Her comment drew a disbelieving sniff from the elderly man as he walked by, cane tapping on the cracked tile entryway.

Chelsea waited until he had disappeared into the elevator before reaching for her cell phone.

"Special Victims, Sergeant Munch speaking," Munch answered brusquely.

Gripping the phone tightly, Chelsea said, "Hey, Sarge. Is the Captain still around?" She hoped not. Otherwise, she'd have to wait until tomorrow to do her research.

"No. He left right after you and Liv." Chelsea could hear amusement in his voice. "You think Liv is going to sneak back in after Dad sent her to her room?"

Debating how to answer, Chelsea absently walked across the lobby and opened her mailbox. "Not Benson." If she went back to station Munch was sure to see her and ask questions. She'd just have to trust the older man. "Me."

A whistle blared in her ear. "Not smart, rookie. The Captain can get awfully touchy if he thinks you don't like to follow orders."

It was a risk Chelsea had to take. She needed to know who Anshu was. Her hand tightened around the bundle of mail, crumpling the flimsy sheaf of ads and envelope. Most importantly, Chelsea had to know if her time in foster care had been arranged, and if there was a grandmother or other family out there waiting for her.

Chelsea tossed the junk mail into the trash can in the lobby and tucked the bills into her inside jacket pocket. She kept her gun hand poised near her holster as she stepped back into the cold night.

Anshu was either gone, or he was very good at hiding. There were only a few people out in the lousy weather. Chelsea eyed each one as she scanned the street for a cab. No one looked suspicious or out of place. Her hand shot out suddenly when a cab careened around the corner. The car nosed up to the curb, and she hopped into the back seat.

* * *

"Lake's on the move," Faith announced as she closed the phone. "Some guy showed up at her apartment building and tried to grab her."

Giles' book thudded closed, the sound booming from the speakers. "Good Lord, was Nicole able to assist Ms. Lake? I did not expect an attack in so public a setting."

Hopping from the bed, Faith made sure her pockets were stuffed with stakes and the car keys. "Wasn't a vamp, Tweed. He was human. She said she couldn't hear the whole conversation. The guy's name was Anshu, and Nicole thought he said something about Lake's grandmother and danger. Then he tried to grab Lake, and Nicole called for backup."

"Great," Willow got up, too. "Just what we need. A group of over-eager newbie Slayers running to the rescue. I don't think the Council will authorize bail for that many people. Maybe we should make a list of which ones we think are worth the money." Shaking her head, Willow directed her next comments to Giles. "Can you get a start on the research while Faith and I check in with Nicole?"

Faith's cell rang again. "Fuck." She pulled it off her belt. "What?"

Nicole's excited voice exploded out of the phone. "She's leaving!"

"Who's leaving, Nicole? The cop?" Faith tried to get information, but it was like listening to Willow on caffeine. Words poured from the younger Slayer in a wave of unintelligible babble. "Nicole!" Faith finally snapped. "Breathe! And then tell me who the fuck is leaving and if Lake is all right."

She started pacing when Nicole didn't respond. In the background, Faith saw Willow disconnecting the cables from the television and her computer.

"Lake is leaving. I'm in a cab behind her trying to follow." Nicole's babble slowed. Now Faith heard more than a hint bruised ego in the stiff tone. "I think she's going back to work."

"Sorry, Nic. My bad." Faith put a hand over the bottom of the phone and whispered to Willow, "We need to hit the road, Red." Then she went back to Nicole. "Any more from that guy? Or is the cop on her own?"

Shouting in a foreign language and the screech of tired answered her.

After a minute, Nicole came back on. "Alone, and definitely going back to work. We just pulled up outside the precinct."

There was a pause, and Faith waited. From Nicole's rapid breathing, the kid was nervous about something.

"I told Chan to keep an eye on Lake's apartment, and I've got a couple more girls doing patrols in the area all night." Nicole cleared her throat. "Just in case…you know…just in case the vamps are in the area."

Faith jumped when a hand touched her shoulder. Willow grinned faintly at her reaction. "I'm ready." She held up her laptop bag and her emergency vamp kit.

"Hey, Nic. We're on our way. Stay where you are and we'll be there in a few." Faith started to hang up then paused. "Good work, kid." Flipping the phone closed again, Faith headed for the door.

She explained the situation to Willow on the drive to the precinct. "Nicole's gonna wait for us to show up."

"I hate this," Willow griped. "We never have much information. That's normal. But this isn't Sunnydale! We don't know anything about New York and the demon hierarchy here." She slumped back in the seat. "And, damn it, I'm pretty sure we're missing something."

Faith pulled the car up to the curb about a block from the well lit entrance to the police department. A shadowy figure detached from the side of a nearby building and hurried up to them.

The back passenger-side door opened, and Nicole slid onto the back seat. "Fuck, it's cold out there."

As always, Faith had to fight back a chuckle as she cranked the heat up higher. Cursing didn't sound very effective in the other Slayer's slow, honeyed drawl.

"I tried to remember anything else about that conversation Lake had with the Anshu guy," Nicole continued. She leaned across the front seat and held her hands in front of the blower. "There wasn't much to it. I got something about Lake's grandmother, and then…I thought she said something about not having a family."

Willow's squeal filled the car.

"Fuck, Red. Give me some warning next time." Faith rubbed at her ears. "I think you blew out my eardrums with that."

As usual, Willow ignored the comment. She dug into her laptop bag and pulled out the computer. After shoving a card into the side of the laptop and opening the lid, she said, "I think that's what we were missing, Faith."

"My aching ears?" It didn't make any sense to Faith. "I need more than that, Red. Go slow and use really small words."

Fingers flying over the keyboard, Willow mumbled, "Family, Faith. It's about family and why Lake doesn't know about the vampires and the prophecy."


	4. Chapter 4

Faith met Nicole's eyes in the rearview mirror. The younger Slayer looked as confused as she was. "I'm still not getting it, Red. So Lake's family is dead. How does that mean she's clueless?"

"Not dead, Faith." Willow's fingers paused for a second over the keyboard. "Well, maybe they are. That might explain why the vamps or whatever are attacking now…" She lapsed into silence, staring at the computer screen.

Not wanting to interrupt the serious thinking going on, Faith wiggled her legs and tapped the steering wheel impatiently. Finally, when Willow hadn't woken from her trance-like state, Faith offered a soft, "Earth to Red. You still with us?"

Willow twitched in response, and her fingers resumed typing. "Still here. Just thinking."

Another meeting of gazes, and two pairs of eyes rolled.

"I should probably be going," Nicole said. The rear door cracked open, and a gust of cold air filled the car.

"Close the fucking door, Nic!" Faith reached over and cranked the heater higher. "If Red can ever get her head out of her ass and fill us in, you'll need to know what we found. And I ain't listening to another Tweed lecture on the cost of the cell phone bill."

The slamming door coincided with a pained sigh. "Right. I stay." Nicole didn't sound happy with that.

Since Willow was back at work and not paying attention, Faith wiled away the time with a little playing. "Come on, Nic. Just let Red get done with the research, and I'm sure she'll be all smiles and friendly again. She can't help the bitch routine when she's on the hunt. Slayers just ain't made to keep up."

Nicole didn't respond, and Faith pouted for a second. All the juniors were fucking scared of Willow. Not her. Not Faith the Dark Slayer. There was just something wrong with that.

"Put the lower lip away, Faith. After seven years of Summers' pouts, I'm immune." Willow flicked a glance her way, a smile lighting her features. "Besides, I think I have the information you need. I'll even go slow and use teensy, weensy words so your poor Slayer brain can understand."

When Nicole burst into giggles, Faith dropped her head into her hands and moaned. "Fuck. I'm gonna hop out and walk back. Ain't right, the two of you making fun of me like this."

There was a second of silence in the car. Then Nicole's new spate of giggles merged with Willow's.

"Poor, Faith. You aren't having a good day, are you?" Willow asked with mock sympathy when the laughter faded again. "First I make you sit through a teleconference with Giles and now you're stuck with me and my computer in the car."

Allowing a hesitant smile to creep out, Faith said, "Yeah, poor me." For once, Willow didn't seem to be judging, and the teasing was fun. "Fang did say redemption would suck."

A beep from the laptop shattered the relaxed scene.

Willow's head snapped back to the screen. "We're on the right track, guys," she announced. "I hacked into the NYPD network to see what Lake was working on."

Faith cleared her throat. "You get caught, you and me can share a cell in the big house, Red. I don't know much about computers, but I'm betting that's a felony."

"Class E. It carries a maximum one year sentence and can include some pretty hefty fines if they tack on other charges." Willow wasn't fazed by that as she got back to the original subject. "I'm piggybacking Lake's search. She's looking at birth records and ACS files."

Although she wasn't following everything, Faith thought she might finally be on the right track. "You're saying Lake spent time in the system as a kid."

Willow nodded. "Yeah. It looks like it. She's looking at a file from the early seventies. Give me a second." A thunder of keystrokes sounded, and then Willow sat back against the seat. "Bingo. Lake became a ward of the state at birth, according to this."

"And we were expecting something else?" Nicole hung over the seat back.

"A lot different, kid. We thought Lake had a clue about vampires and magic 'cause of her Mohawk connection. She don't even know about that, so it's a good bet she don't know about things that get fang-y at night." Faith stretched her neck to the right, a series of pops sounding. "Question is: how are we gonna keep her safe if Lake can't help us out?"

"I have a better question." Willow ran a hand through her hair. "Why all the secrecy? If Anshu is somehow connected to Lake's real family, why foster care? Why not a family member?"

That didn't seem so hard. "They wanted to keep her safe." Turning in the seat so she faced Willow, Faith continued, "Think about it, Red. You have a kid that you know…somehow is in danger. What do you do?"

Willow stared back at her, brows knitted in confusion.

"You hide the baby. Pretend it's dead, and put it into the system." Faith saw Willow's eyes widen. "While the kid's growing up, you try to find the problem and take it out."

* * *

Chelsea felt Munch's eyes on her back as she worked. The normally cool grey eyes bore into her, and Chelsea tightened her muscles against a nervous twitch.

"If you tell me what you're working on, maybe I can help," he offered quietly. His shoes made soft thumps as he walked across the deserted squad room and hovered next to her left elbow.

Minimizing the window on the screen, Chelsea hunched protectively over the keyboard. "Nothing, Sarge. Just…something I thought of when I got home." She didn't mention – hadn't mentioned since the interrogation had started an hour ago – why she'd decided to return to work against orders.

Munch didn't move. If anything, he seemed to get closer. "Now, I know you think I'm old, Rookie. And you may be right. However, when a transplant to our lovely unit comes in, huddles over her computer, and refuses to talk, that can only mean one thing."

Eyes sliding closed, Chelsea sighed. And waited…and waited…and waited.

Finally, the hum of the overhead lights and the puff of their quiet breathing were too much. "What's that, Sarge?" Chelsea inquired reluctantly.

"Trouble," Munch answered, seeming almost pleased. "It can't be about the case. You aren't so wet behind the ears you'd work on that without calling your partner. And, if you'd called Liv, she'd have beaten you in. It's personal."

Sometimes, Chelsea thought, working with other cops was a pain. They knew everything, and what they didn't know, they found out. "If it is?" She needed Munch's reassurance that he would keep her secret.

"Then talk to me, Chelsea." The sound of her first name (not her last or her nickname) shocked Chelsea. "We may argue and get testy from time to time, but we're a very happily dysfunctional family. If you've got trouble, we've got your back."

Her eyes opened, and her view of the computer blurred through the tears. "I don't…I don't even really know if it's trouble." Holding very still, Chelsea willed the tears not to fall. Telling Munch about tonight was one thing. Letting him see her cry was another matter entirely.

"You still need to tell me, Rookie." Munch tapped her shoulder. "Either I get to play hero, or I can chuckle while I file your write-up for disobeying a direct order from the Captain."

A snort escaped as Chelsea gave in. "I never knew my parents." It was an oblique entry to the topic, but she wanted to try to tell the story in some kind of order. "I grew up in a series of foster homes. A lot of them," she confessed. "The older I got, the less I cared about finding my family – if I had any left."

"ACS didn't give you any information over the years?" Munch moved away long enough to wheel his desk chair over to her. "They usually try to get the lifers reconnected to whatever relatives they do have."

"Nothing." With a loud scraping sound, Chelsea scooted her chair to the right so she could watch Munch for a reaction. "Looking in the mirror every day, it didn't take me long to figure I was Native American of some kind. I looked into that once, when I went to college. Even though I could register in their database, there isn't any way to pinpoint which nation or tribe." Not unless she wanted to spend a lot of money.

Munch regarded her thoughtfully, left hand tucked under his right elbow and the fingers of his right hand caressing the side of his face. "You said you didn't want to know about your family. Something changed that. Tonight."

"Someone was waiting for me at my apartment." Staring intently at the scarred wooden desktop, Chelsea hunted for a way to describe the meeting. "He gave me his name and told me he had a message from my grandmother." She replayed the scene in her mind. "He didn't react well when I tried to explain about the lack of a family."

"What did he do, Chelsea?" Munch leaned forward and gripped her hand. "Do we need…"

Chelsea waved a hand in dismissal. "He got in my face, grabbed me." She looked up so Munch could see she was telling the truth. "It didn't take much of my training to get him off." The older man relaxed and sat back in his chair. "It was something he said. He claimed 'they' were sorry for abandoning me and that I was in danger."


	5. Chapter 5

"Very cloak and dagger," Munch commented. "In fact, it sounds like something I might say. Are you sure it was some guy named Anshu and not a handsome older man named John?" His thin lips lifted in a smile.

Rolling her eyes, Chelsea went back to staring at the computer screen. "Not unless you shrank a few inches, gained twenty pounds, and dyed your hair." The information in front of her didn't change. "This is useless." Slamming her hand on the desk, she shot out of her chair. "There's nothing in my file from before I entered the system. No birth mother or father. No mention of _any_ relative. Not even a death certificate."

The wheels on Munch's chair squeaked as he rolled across the floor to his desk. "Why don't you get some sleep up in the crib? I'll do a little digging and reach out to some contacts. If nothing else, we hit up Liv's buddy from TARU and hack into the system. I'm sure the Captain won't mind suspending a couple more detectives for breaking the rules."

"I'm not tired." The automatic protest made her sound like a stubborn five-year old.

"Right. You always have those bruises under your eyes." Munch lounged back in his chair and regarded her thoughtfully. "Airtight, perfect records from ACS usually mean forgeries, Chelsea. You've been a cop long enough to know that. Those schmucks handle more cases than we do. They _always_ screw something up."

Not sure where he was going with the explanation, Chelsea closed burning eyes and leaned heavily into the desk. "So? They're human." Get to the point, she wanted to add. Sometimes, Munch's penchant for long-winded monologues got old.

"So if the records too perfect to be true, maybe we shouldn't be looking for how or why but who." Chelsea's eyes popped open and she stared at Munch in incomprehension. "Think, Chelsea. The two of us can't crack the computer file. We _can_ locate the name of the person who _created_ the file."

"You're saying Lake's family dumped her in foster care to keep her safe." Willow chewed her lip and idly tapped the keyboard. "If you're right, Faith, we now have a whole slew of new problems."

"And that surprises you?" Faith couldn't help asking. "I ain't been around for much of the big shit, but I remember how the Scoobs were when the Mayor blew into town. Clueless and runnin' around like an addict hiding his stash before a raid."

Nicole waved a hand. "Um…as fun as that sounds, what do you want me to do? Stay here and watch Lake or go back to the hotel?"

"You have to stay here, Nicole." Closing her laptop, Willow sighed. "In fact, call and get a couple more bodies here to help. Since Lake doesn't know what's going on, we have to be even more careful. She could walk right into a trap because she isn't looking for one."

"Tell you what, kid. Get Cam and Jessie here. There's a coffee shop half a block up. Keep one of you on the building and the other two can hang out and get warm over some joe." Faith turned her head to look at Nicole. "I'll call Tweed while Red's breaking more hacking laws. We'll get more backup on the way."

The car door opened and Nicole slipped out. "Nice to know you'll burn those cell phone minutes for a good cause, Faith." With a grin, Nicole slammed the door and disappeared into the heavy shadows surrounding the car.

"Huh. Kid thinks she's a mini-me or something," Faith griped as she pulled the car away from the curb.

She felt Willow's stare immediately. "Faith, they _all_ try to be like you."

"Ex-cons?" Snorting, Faith reached for the radio dial. "I'm sure the Council'll love that. Maybe Tweed should tell B about it. Might be enough to get her back in the fold."

Her hand froze on the knob, and a stilted silence filled the car.

"Sorry, Willow," Faith mumbled. "I didn't mean…"

"Yes, you did, Faith. Don't lie," Willow interrupted brusquely. Then she laughed shortly. "Who knew you'd turn out to be the Good Slayer in the end?"

Faith didn't know how to respond to the comment. She put both hands back on the wheel and gripped it as she concentrated on driving.

"They worship you, Faith," Willow continued. "You know why?" She didn't even pause for an answer. "You're _here_ and approachable. You don't treat them like babies or idiots. You tell them what they need to know, _show _them if they don't understand, and then you let them go do it."

Now Willow stopped. Out of the corner of her eye, Faith thought she saw a tear slide down Willow's cheek. Swallowing hard, Faith protested, "I ain't a saint, Red. All I'm doing is treating the Juniors the way me and B wanted the old Council to treat us. It ain't a big deal."

Willow's scream rang in Faith's ears. "Damn it. Why do you do that? Is it so hard for you to understand I think you're doing a good job?"

"You mean, I'm such a great role model I still have a record? Such a wonderful Slayer you bitch at me all the time?" The car leapt forward as Faith angrily tromped on the gas pedal. Jaw clenched to hold back more bitter words, she drove them back to the hotel and screeched to a stop in the parking lot. "I'll be in the bar. Don't fuck with me this time. I got a cell phone. I can call Giles from there."

She dared Willow to try anything with one final glare. When no magical bonds wrapped around her, Faith hopped out of the car and stalked inside – straight into the Big Apple Bar and Lounge.

* * *

"And that's why your badge says 'sergeant,'" Chelsea pointed out. "The rest of us are too slow." Dropping back into her chair, she typed rapidly for a minute. The screen flickered and then filled with information. "Wilson Grant. He was the social worker who filed the original report." They were finally getting somewhere. Chelsea ignored the inner voice wondering when this personal investigation had become a group activity. "I can call him in the morning."

Munch laughed. "I hate to break it to you, rookie. It _is_ morning. Five thirty, to be exact."

"Last time I checked, Sarge, government offices aren't open until eight." Chelsea slumped back in her chair. "Let's see if Mr. Grant has anything interesting in his jacket. Computers, unlike people, don't get time off." Her exhaustion fading under the thrill of the hunt, Chelsea started a background check on the social worker.

Grant was clean. Not even a parking ticket on his record.

"OK, Mr. Grant. So you aren't a known criminal. Let's try something else," Chelsea mumbled to the computer. "How about cross-checking you with my long lost relative Anshu." It was a long shot with only a partial name. Chelsea prayed the unusual moniker would play in her favor.

"Chelsea, was there anyone else at your place besides Anshu?" Munch had moved sometime during her computer search. Standing in front of the squad room's window, he casually peered through the blinds. His quiet question was not casual, however, and Chelsea came instantly alert.

"No, I only saw him." She frowned and brought the scene to memory. "The other people on the street looked like they belonged there. Why?" Chelsea didn't think it had been a random question.

Turning slowly, Munch met her eyes. "Unless my eyesight is worse than my ophthalmologist says, you've picked up a tail. Someone's huddled in the doorway to the building across the street."

Without thinking, Chelsea reached into her desk drawer and pulled out her gun. She slipped it into the shoulder holster, not bothering to snap the leather guard across the weapon. "I'll take the back."

"Slow down, rookie. For all we know that's a pro down there looking for a john." Munch's actions belied his words, though. He, too, slid his gun into the holster.

"I'll take the back," Chelsea repeated intently. "You can go out the front, or I can handle this on my own."

She flinched from Munch's laser-like glare. "I thought we'd dealt with the cowboy mentality, Chelsea. For now, I'm your partner. Give me a few minutes too get into position." He gave her a half smile as he grabbed the coat hanging on the back of his chair. "I'll call you from the stoop, and we can talk about what kind of coffee I'm supposedly getting you."

Chelsea forced herself to calm down. Taking a deep breath, she nodded. "Got it, Sarge. I'll head down now and be ready for your call." Despite her efforts, her muscles trembled from the sudden adrenaline rush. She panted as she sprinted down the stairs to the ground floor and out the rear entrance.

Her phone rang as she reached the street corner. "Yeah, I'm almost ready," Chelsea said without preamble. Making sure she had easy access to her gun, she hugged the side of the precinct building and crept closer to the front.

"Well, I'm tired of that crap they call coffee, kid." Munch was sticking to the script; his voice was loud and clear. He wanted to make sure anyone listening bought the cover story. "I'm right at the corner, now. It'll just take me a couple of minutes to get to the diner. You can either tell me what you want, or I'll guess."

Chelsea looked up. There he was, right on cue, standing under the street light at the intersection. "I see you," she told him. "You go, and I'll be right behind you." The phone closed with a click. In one smooth motion, Chelsea stuffed the small device into her front pocket and drew her gun. The safety clicked off and she set her right index finger next to the trigger.

The pedestrian signal changed and Munch trotted across the street. It was too dark for Chelsea to see if his gun was out, too. As soon as he reached the other side, she took off. Heart pounding, she checked traffic with a sweep of her eyes and dashed across the street on a direct path for the doorway.

She was still several feet away when Munch's "Freeze! Police!" cut through the night air.

* * *

Nursing her second Coke of the night, Faith finally opened her phone and dialed Giles' office.

"Rupert Giles," his voice announced.

Watching the condensation trickle down the glass in front of her, Faith got down to business. "Hey, Tweed. It's me."

"Me? Me who?" Giles always did that. Although, after five years, she thought he might have given up trying to teach her manners.

"We need more Juniors. I don't know if Red's called to whine and bitch so let me know if I'm repeatin' shit." Not waiting for a response, Faith went on. "We're the only ones who know about Lake's past. She grew up in foster care. Red thinks that means we're on our own keeping her safe."

A deep breath followed by a tired sigh brushed her ear. "Yes, I agree. I will…"

Beeping interrupted his voice. Faith pulled the phone away and peered at the screen. "Fuck. Giles, Cam's on the other line. She and some of the other kids are camped out watching Lake. Let me see what she needs and get back to you."

She tuned out his answer and pressed the button to take Cam's call. "Yo, Junior. You enjoying the coffee and the night in the Big Apple?"

"Faith?" Cam's voice wavered and broke.

Faith shot upright in her seat at the sound. "What the fuck's wrong, kid?" She could be there in minutes if she had to.

Cam sniffed a few times and then choked out, "Nicole's been arrested."


	6. Chapter 6

"Fuck!" Faith's loud comment drew looks from the other patrons in the bar. Sliding out of the booth and tossing some bills on the table, she strode for the door. "Listen, Cam. Get the rest of the kids and make yourselves scarce. Don't watch from across the street. Try down the block or something. We can't afford for Lake to spot any more of you."

She stabbed the elevator call button and thought fast.

"Faith…" Cam's voice wavered. "I'm sorry. I…"

Ah, hell. Recognizing that tone of self-blame, Faith looked down from the numbers over the elevator door. "Don't go there, kid. Not your fault." It was hers. Nicole should never have been on that street alone. Faith clenched her hand around the phone and stepped into the elevator as soon as the doors slid open. "I need to grab Red and then we'll meet you at the coffee shop. Lake's on her own until we get this settled."

The phone closed with a sharp snap. Faith bounced impatiently during the ride. It didn't make sense. Why would Lake arrest Nicole? The younger Slayer hadn't called to say they were on the move or that anything had happened. She should have been there with Nicole. The Junior Slayer was good, but she didn't have any training in staking out a target.

Striding down the hall, Faith raged inside. This should never have happened. The anger gave her a little extra strength, and the door to the room exploded inward at her shove.

Willow gave a short shriek at the abrupt movement.

"We got trouble, Red." Faith didn't bother explaining what kind. "Grab your gear. We need to meet Cam and the minis."

Her words sent Willow scrambling. The computer returned to its home in her backpack and she looped a fanny pack of magical supplies and holy water around her narrow waist. "Ready," Willow announced.

Glad that Willow hadn't pestered her with questions she couldn't answer, Faith hurried back to the elevator. While they waited, she filled Willow in with what she _did_ know.

"Arrested?" Willow snorted. "Not likely. There's no curfew in New York City, and I don't think Nicole would do anything to draw attention to herself." She stepped into the elevator, leaving Faith in the hallway.

Faith stared after Willow and hoped her chagrin didn't show. No curfew. No reason for arrest. "Yeah. That's what I thought, too," she lied. Joining Willow in the elevator, Faith felt some of the tension in her shoulders disappear at the reassurance. "Cam probably misunderstood or overreacted." She wryly acknowledged to herself that she had, too. "Ain't gonna hurt to make sure, though."

A teasing smile crossed Willow's face. "Sure, Mama Bear. We have to make sure your cubs are safe."

Growling playfully, Faith poked the button for the lobby again. "Watch it, Red. I might forget you're part of the family and put my claws on you."

She wasn't prepared for the bright blush that covered Willow's face.

"Willow?" Faith sobered immediately. "I didn't mean to say something to make you mad." Or disgusted. Jamming her hands in her pockets, she glared at the slowly lighting numbers over the door. "I…uh…"

"Don't, Faith. I'm not mad," Willow said softly. "I just…I wasn't expecting you to say that, that's all. You don't talk about family much, and never when I'm around."

Faith was still trying to come up with a response when the door chimed and slid open.

"Come on, Mama Bear. Let's go find out what happened to your favorite cub." Willow bumped Faith's hip as they exited the elevator.

"Right." As they walked out of the hotel and Faith signaled the valet, Willow's phone rang. "What the fuck else can go wrong?" Faith asked plaintively.

Willow shrugged and opened her phone. "Hello?"

It was too loud with the roar of traffic and the rumble of dozens of conversations on the street for Faith to hear the other end of the conversation. She took out some of her frustration on the valet, slapping a folded five-dollar bill into his hand and then slamming the door as she slid behind the wheel.

The phone conversation was still underway as Willow took her own seat and dragged on her seatbelt. "Yes. Yes, I understand. New York is very dangerous."

Faith pulled out and headed toward the station house.

"Thank you for calling, Sergeant. I'm on my way." Willow flipped the phone closed and grimaced. "Looks like Nicole somehow spooked Lake and her boss. He made some lame threats about loitering and told me it wasn't safe for a girl Nicole's age to be out alone."

Snorting, Faith stopped at a traffic light. "I bet Nic wanted to toss him out a window for that." She tapped her fingers on the wheel. "You think they suspect anything? Do we need to call Tweed for backup?"

An auburn eyebrow rose. "Faith, why would they connect a fifteen-year old kid with Anshu? Nicole doesn't look like a Native American and she didn't go all Slayer on Lake. If she had, I wouldn't have been told to come pick her up and take her home for a good breakfast."

* * *

"Well, that was amazingly uninformative." Munch leaned back in his chair until it creaked. "It seems your friend doesn't like to talk anymore than you do, Nicole. Why is that?"

Chelsea watched the two. Munch should be winning this battle of wills. He was, after all, a decorated cop with close to thirty years on the Job. To her discerning eye, however, it looked like a draw. Munch stared piercingly at Nicole while she glowered back, lips pressed into a tight line.

"So…Nicole," Chelsea began in the hopes of breaking the strained silence, "why are you in New York?"

It was a completely pointless question, and she wasn't surprised when Nicole didn't even glance in her direction.

Munch broke first. With a dramatic sigh, he stood and fished a handful of change from his pants pocket. "Here, kid. I'm hungry. If you've been wandering the streets all night, I'm sure you are, too. There's a machine down the hall. Get us a candy bar or something."

The glower slowly faded as Nicole climbed to her feet. She looked back and forth between Munch and Chelsea.

"Well, hurry up. Even I could get there and back faster." Munch pointed a long, narrow finger at the squad room doors.

"Be right back," Nicole muttered before disappearing down the hall.

Chelsea regarded Munch thoughtfully. "Kind of risky, letting her go like that."

"Nah." A familiar smirk graced Munch's face. "She'll be back. Nicole knows that friend of hers, Ms. Rosenberg, is on the way. She might be full of teen attitude, but she got very, very upset when I made that call."

He must have seen something Chelsea had missed. Nicole hadn't stopped glaring and pouting since they'd escorted her in from the street. "I'll trust your judgment on this, Gramps," she teased. "While she's gone, though, what's the plan…"

The doors exploded inward, and Chelsea stopped talking and came to her feet, ready for action.

"Morning," Olivia announced as she swept in.

Drooping in relief, Chelsea resumed her seat. "Morning," she parroted.

Olivia sifted through the paperwork on their joined desks while Chelsea and Munch exchanged looks. "Huh. Nothing new. Too bad." She stretched. "I guess that means a visit to the Widow McLaren. Since you're here, we need to hit the road. It's a long trip out to Canarsie even if we beat the Brooklyn traffic. I'll drive."

It wasn't what Chelsea wanted to hear. McLaren could wait. After all, the records – and his former wife – said he was dead. Dead men didn't interest her.

"Let's go, Lake. It's almost six. I want to be there when Mrs. McLaren comes out to get the morning paper," Olivia snapped.

"Right behind you, Benson." Giving Munch a frustrated glance, Chelsea retrieved her gun from her desk drawer and holstered it. "Later, Sarge."

The drive was bad, even with their early start. Chelsea bounced her right leg impatiently as Olivia inched along behind the cab in front of them.

"What's up with you and Munch?" Olivia asked out of nowhere.

"Me and Munch?" The echoed phrase made her sound like a perp under interrogation, and Chelsea stifled a groan. "He and I were talking about that kid we picked up outside the station." Trying to steer the conversation away from anything more relevant, Chelsea said, "Nicole managed to get Munch's goat. His crusty glare didn't even break her."

Olivia didn't bite. "When we left last night, he called you rookie. This morning, though, it felt different. I got the feeling you aren't just a rookie anymore." She glanced across the car. "Want to explain that?"

"Not really." Chelsea closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the seat. Olivia wasn't going to let this go. She was a cop…and Chelsea's partner. She had a right to expect Chelsea to share information. "It's personal. Family stuff."

Her mumble didn't draw the expected response. "Ah. Welcome to the club. I think Munch knows all of our secrets. Mine, El's. Hell, for all I know Fin's, too."

Even with her eyes closed, Chelsea felt the weight of Olivia's look. "Anything I need to know, Lake?"

Translated, Chelsea knew that meant: Is your personal life going to get me killed? "I sure as hell hope not, partner." Even as she said it, Chelsea feared all her hope might not be enough to keep them both alive.


	7. Chapter 7

"Somehow, I'm not reassured by that," Olivia said dryly. "What the hell happened last night?"

Chelsea's leg bounced even faster at the question. She'd let Munch in on the secret only because he'd caught her researching after hours. She and Olivia were partners, though, a little voice whispered.

"Chelsea?" Olivia glanced at her as they sat at yet another red light.

The partial truth would have to do for now. Ignoring the voice repeating, "Partner," and the guilt twisting her stomach, Chelsea sighed. "It's… it's a family thing."

The car inched through the intersection. "And that leads to possible death, how?" Olivia wasn't giving up just yet.

"Until the guy showed up on my doorstep last night, I didn't have any family." After thirty one years, admitting that hadn't gotten any easier. Swallowing against the bitter taste in her mouth, Chelsea went on. "Munch's looking into it for me."

Olivia swore and jammed on the brakes. The car rocked – but they missed hitting the van in front of them. "Why is there always an accident on the West Side Highway _and_ a backup in the tunnel we I have to get to Brooklyn? We won't make it to McLaren's place until noon using surface streets." Horns blared around them for several more minutes and then the line of cars ahead of them began to slowly advance onto the Brooklyn Bridge. "Munch is helping out? Why the hell didn't you call me?"

Before Chelsea could censor the thought, the words popped out. "In the mood you were in when you left? Do I look crazy?" Freezing, she braced for an explosion.

Instead, stunned silence filled the car until Olivia chuckled. "Point taken."

Chelsea relaxed into the seat. "Since we seem to be in a sharing mood, you want to tell me what last night was all about?" Now the shoe was on the other foot. Smirking, Chelsea watched Olivia squirm and concentrate intently on the road ahead. "'Liv?" she probed.

"Right before I got suspended, Cragen called me into his office. Told me I needed to take some time. Think over the way I felt about the Job." Olivia's voice was wry, and she smiled tightly. "I did. I burned some personal time and tried to decide if the sleepless nights and the nightmares were worth it."

She fell silent, and Chelsea didn't push. Every cop got to that same crossroad. It was amazing Olivia had taken this long to hit that point, especially considering the types of cases the SVU handled.

"Last night, it was like he was telling me the same thing. To step back. That I was losing perspective." A dark eyebrow quirked as Olivia glanced across the car. "Do _you_ think I was having trouble with my perspective?"

"Even I know a trick question when I hear one," Chelsea answered. Looking away from Olivia, she stared at the fog-shrouded East River below them.

The car slowed and sped up in a random pattern for a few minutes. "It wasn't a trick question, Lake." Olivia's voice was back to business. "I was out of line. You're my partner. The next time it happens, it's your job to rein me in."

***

Faith decided to shut up. Every time she opened her mouth, she said something stupid. She drove in silence for the first few blocks.

"You OK over there, Faith? I know I'm normally the one doing all the talking, but you usually grunt or have some comment." Faith could tell from the overly cheerful tone that Willow was trying to tease her out of her brooding.

"Not much to say, Red." Concentrating on _not_ breaking the speed limit and getting pulled over, Faith avoided saying anything more.

A balled-up paper napkin bounced off Faith's face.

"What the fuck?" She turned her head and saw a very serious Willow.

"Are you going to tell me why you're all Quiet Faith or do I have to torture it out of you?" Willow brandished another napkin.

Keeping one hand on the steering wheel, Faith held up the other in a show of surrender. "Anything but that, Red. I ain't going into a cop shop all bruised up in the face. They might think I'm getting abused by my girlfriend or something."

"Huh." The napkin lowered. "Don't you think I couldn't do it." Willow smirked. "Some Slayer you are. Afraid of a little witch and her big bad napkin."

Faith relaxed slightly at the teasing. "You forget – that 'little witch' could turn my ass into a frog with a wiggle of her fingers. And green ain't my color." She slowed to let a pedestrian dash through an upcoming intersection. "We got a plan for getting Nic out of jail?"

"She's not…" Willow started to say, frustration clear in her voice.

"I know that, Red," Faith said softly. "You know what I mean, though. What are we gonna tell the cops? Neither one of us is related to Nic. You think he ain't going to ask about why she's running around the city that time of night?"

Out of the corner of her eye, Faith saw Willow rub the back of her neck. "Giles and I worried something like this might happen."

"What?" Now _Faith_ was frustrated. Voice rough with anger, she glared out the windshield. "You thought the juniors might have a problem with the cops so you planned ahead?" Then the anger froze. No. No way. "Or were you thinkin' _I_ might have the problem?"

"No!" Willow denied immediately. "Damn it, Faith. This wasn't about you!"

Fingers aching from gripping the wheel so tightly, Faith asked, "Then what _was_ it about?"

"Keeping the juniors safe, Faith." Willow's voice was quieter as she continued. "The night before we flew up here, Giles and I talked about contingency plans. It was a risk from the beginning to try shadowing Lake. She's a cop, and she's trained to pick up a tail. It wasn't something I thought we'd really need, though. Lake was supposed to know we were there – and why."

It made sense. Repeating that silently, Faith pried her fingers off the wheel. "Sorry." It sounded too abrupt and not sincere enough so Faith tried again. "I'm sorry, Red. This ain't what I signed on for with the Slaying, and I suck at it."

Willow leaned across the car and shook Faith's shoulder. "You don't suck at it, Faith. In fact, you're way better at than I am."

"You keep sayin' that." Faith might have continued if the precinct hadn't loomed half a block down the street. "We're here. You want to let me in on the plan you and Tweed came up with?"

"Faith, you can't go in with me. This is a police station!" Willow's voice began to rise.

Undoing her seat belt, Faith turned to face Willow. "I ain't ever gonna forget that, Willow." She rubbed her right wrist, almost feeling the handcuff tightening around it. "But no way am I leaving Nicole in there without backup."

For a second, she thought Willow would scream. Her mouth opened and closed several times, and her face turned a deep red. Finally, a single index finger snapped up in a clear "give me a minute" gesture.

Faith waited, still rubbing away the chill of those phantom cuffs.

Willow flipped open her cell phone and stabbed one button. Faith saw her hand shake slightly as she raised the phone to her ear.

"Hello?" Was that Angel's voice on the other end? Faith leaned forward slightly and listened intently.

"Don't talk," Willow ordered brusquely. "Just listen. I need that paperwork we've been working on."

Maybe it wasn't Angel. Faith thought she heard a deep breath through the phone's speaker.

"Don't tell me you can't do it. Not now. I _need_ those papers!" Willow's voice dropped in volume but not in intensity. "Overnight the originals to the hotel. Email copies to my official address now. You've got five minutes." The phone closed with a sharp click, and Willow shoved open her door. "Let's get this over with."

"What…" Faith pressed her lips together at the narrow-eyed glare she got. Clearing her throat, she quietly got out of the car as well. "After you, Red." She tried a friendly smile.

There was no answering flash of teeth. Willow turned and stalked toward the steps leading to the main entrance to the Sixteenth Precinct.

Faith stood for a second, staring after Willow. Her heart pounded, and she swallowed the sour taste in her mouth. Willow's comment rang in her mind, "It's a police station!" Yes, it was. The police station where Nicole was being held and where the same Junior Slayer was more than likely panicking. That thought drove her forward, and Faith sprinted up the steps after Willow.

They entered the door side by side.

A sea of blue uniforms surrounded them, and Faith's resolve started to crumble. She froze only a few steps inside the building.

"Can I help you?" The deep voice belonged to the grey-haired man behind the high counter to their right.

"Um…we're looking for a Sergeant Munch," Willow said easily. "I think he said something about Special Victims?"

Fighting for every breath, Faith locked her knees. She was _not_ going to pass out in front of Willow and all these cops.

"Special Victims is up the stairs. Third floor. Take a left at the top and go all the way to the end of the hall." Then the man tilted his head. "You need someone to take you up? Your friend doesn't look too good."

Fuck. Faith straightened. "I'm good." Her voice was high and thready. "Thanks. Come on, Red. Let's go get Nic." She gripped Willow's hand tightly and steered them to the staircase.

She could _feel_ the cop watching their progress.

"Faith," Willow hissed. "Faith! Slow down. My feet aren't even touching the steps anymore."

Glancing down, Faith realized she'd picked Willow up at some point. "Sorry, Red." She dropped Willow back to the ground. "Guess I got a little…uh…"

"Nervous?" Willow supplied helpfully. "That's because we're in a police station." She looked pointedly at Faith. "Are you going to see reason and go back to the car now? You freaked at the first uniform. How are you going to handle a face to face meeting with a detective?"

Suddenly, Faith's senses sounded an alarm and she went on full alert. Then she recognized the signature of the warning. "Nic's nearby." Avoiding Willow's question, she started trotting up the stairs.

Willow had to run to keep up.

At the third floor landing, they turned left. A pair of double doors sat at the end of the corridor. "Faith, please…" Willow dug her fingers into Faith's forearm.

"Red." Turning to look directly at Willow, Faith met the worried green eyes. "I know the risks. Believe me, _I know_." Her heart still pounded far too fast; however, Faith wasn't turning back now. "Anything happens to me, I know you got my back."

Willow's eyes widened. "You do?" Her voice squeaked. "I mean, _I do_. Yes." Her fingers relaxed their grip, stroking Faith's arm. "I promise; I won't let them take you back to jail, Faith."

The heat from Willow's hand felt good. "I believe you." Faith stepped away and shivered at the loss of contact. "Now, let's go save Nic from this Munch guy and get the fuck out of here." She strode down the hallway with quick, firm steps, shoving open the doors to the Special Victims' office.


	8. Chapter 8

Faith's confident steps faltered almost immediately once she stepped through the doors. The warren of desks and the other overt signs of law enforcement hit her hard. In seconds, she lost her connection with the Special Victims Unit. Instead, Faith huddled in a rickety chair, cuffed hands dangling between her knees, as Detective Lockley took her statement.

Reeling from the vision, Faith stumbled back a step.

Only a warm hand on the small of her back kept her from turning completely around and retreating. "Sergeant Munch?" Willow's smile showed too many teeth. That small sign of Willow's nerves helped Faith deal with her own.

She straightened and moved to the side, letting Willow continue into the squad room. Following slowly, Faith kept her eyes on Nicole. The younger Slayer fiddled restlessly with a partially eaten candy bar and stared at the floor.

"…Ms. Lehane." The sound of her name snapped Faith's attention back to Willow and the skinny detective. "I'm sorry you had to call us. We'll definitely keep a closer eye on the players from now on," Willow was saying.

Players? Faith frowned in confusion. What the hell was Willow talking about?

The detective must have been watching her. "Is something wrong?" he asked, glancing at her intently,

The frown mutated into a scowl, and Faith shoved both hands into her pockets. "Nah. Just wondering how long this's gonna take. Didn't get enough sleep, and I've got a few things to say to the kid here." She tried to meet his eyes, tried to smooth her expression.

It didn't appear she'd succeeded. Thin lips twitching into a very small smile, Munch waved at Nicole. "Oh, you can talk. Just don't take her out of the squad room yet. Ms. Rosenberg here has some paperwork to sign before I can release Nicole."

Faith's eyes narrowed. That sounded like cop doublespeak. "What paperwork? I thought you told Re-…I mean, Willow that Nic hadn't done anything wrong." Her shoulders tightened even more, and Faith's hands came out of her pockets to grip her belt so hard it doubled under the pressure.

"Nicole," Willow's voice interrupted the tense exchange between Faith and Sergeant Munch, "why don't you and Ms. Lehane go over there and talk?" She pointed to a remote corner cluttered with a coffee machine and stacks of Styrofoam cups.

Nicole was out of her seat instantly. "Sure, ," she muttered.

Still rattled by Munch's look, Faith hesitated…until Willow turned Resolve Face her way and pointed imperiously at the corner. "Right. Talk with Nic." Spinning on her heel, she followed the younger Slayer.

Leaning one hip against the table housing the coffee machine, Nicole looked anything but happy about the coming discussion. In her position, Faith would have felt the same way. A deep breath helped alleviate some of the lingering tension. "You wanna tell me what happened?" she asked Nicole softly.

Nicole's eyes welled with tears she blinked frantically to hide. "I was stupid."

Responding to Nicole's comment (and her tears), Faith took up a position right next to her and bumped Nicole's hip. "Listen up, kid. I'm the fucking Queen of Stupid. Getting hauled in by the cops? Not even close to some of the shit I've done."

A choked giggle escaped from Nicole – closely followed by a loud and watery sniff.

"What happened, Nic?" Faith tried again.

"I was camped out in a doorway across the street. They must have seen me or someone called to complain about me being there. I don't know." Nicole shrugged in confusion. "One minute I'm watching Munch through the window over there and waiting for Lake to come out, and the next I'm staring at a gun pointed at my chest."

They were definitely out of their league. Faith rubbed the back of her neck. "We need a new game plan." She glanced up and watched Willow talking intently to Munch. "After this, we're having a bigass Scooby meeting to figure this out. I ain't letting you newbies get in trouble 'cause me and Red don't know what the fuck we're doing."

Nicole didn't respond for a second.

"You gonna be OK?" Faith probed. She watched the other girl out of the corner of her eye.

"I'm good." Nicole's words were firm. "Mad at myself. Feeling really stupid, but I'm good."

Faith grinned a little at the comment.

An answering grin crossed Nicole's face. "Thanks for bailing me out."

"Nah. We didn't have to post bail." Faith deliberately misunderstood Nicole's statement. "Red's just got orders to make sure you're a good little girl from now on."

"Bitch," Nicole muttered, her grin growing.

Faith snickered. "Took you long enough to figure that out. You must be slow or something.'" Then she sobered. Willow was shaking hands with Munch. "Looks like Fun Time is over, kid. Let's motor."

Nicole pushed away from the table and headed toward Willow.

"Next time you and your girlfriend get in a fight, young lady," Munch announced, "don't go rushing off. New York's a lovely city, but it's not always safe."

Looking stunned at that, Nicole looked back and forth between Willow and Faith. "Uh…" she mumbled.

"I don't think it will be an issue, Sergeant." Willow pinned Nicole with a steely glare. "Nicole won't be going anywhere for a while after this. In fact, I'm thinking all of the girls will be under house arrest until after the tournament."

Faith added the tournament reference to the list of things Willow was damned well going to explain when they got outside. "We good to go?" That's all she wanted to know. Now that she and Nicole weren't off in their corner, the reality of where she was hit her again. Bouncing on her toes, Faith fought a visceral urge to run for the door.

"Of course. I'm sorry for taking up so much of your morning." Munch smiled and held his hand out in Faith's direction. "I hope the rest of your stay in the Big Apple is more enjoyable."

All the air in the room disappeared. In slow motion, Faith watched her hand raise and then clasp Munch's. "Yeah," she choked out. "Thanks."

***

Chelsea gave Olivia a wry look. "If that had been listed on the job description, I might not have applied for the transfer."

"Ah, poor rookie. Life's hard." With a grin, Olivia maneuvered the car off the bridge. "Wow. Only an hour. I thought it would be longer." Sarcasm dripped from the words as she stepped on the accelerator and whipped around a slower moving car.

The old woman behind the wheel gave them a wide-eyed, terrified look as they sped past.

As they turned onto Flatbush Avenue and continued to move away from Manhattan, traffic slowly thinned. Chelsea settled back into the passenger seat. God, she was tired. "You think we're going to get anything out of the widow? Or are we just wasting time and placating Novak with this trip?"

Olivia snorted. "The widow's going to give us nothing but grief."

"Great. You know that. _I_ know that. Is Novak stupid or just covering her political ass?" Chelsea scowled as they entered Grand Army Plaza. "Maybe we should have swung by and picked her up for the trip."

"No way." Olivia shook her head. "Novak's a pain but she gets the job done. She's got a lot of high-powered connections." She looked across the car and continued seriously. "Play by her rules, Lake. If she likes you, getting warrants when you don't _quite_ have probable cause is a lot easier."

Chelsea raised a hand in surrender. "My bad." She yawned. "Sorry. I never really made it to bed last night."

She sensed Olivia's smirk. "Anything you want to share?"

"Not a thing," Chelsea answered. At least, not until she absolutely had to. Then, just to tease Olivia, she added with a straight face. "Well, OK. I…uh…" Leaning in as if she were sharing a very tawdry piece of information, she stage whispered, "I spent the night with Munch."

Olivia's shoulder smack wasn't unexpected. "Bitch," she complained with a grin. "And here I thought I'd have something to add when the guys asked for details on my new partner."

Eyes idly scanning the landscape of Prospect Park as the car rolled by, Chelsea laughed. "I'm sure you can start a rumor about me and Munch." She would have continued, but a car caught her attention in the passenger-side mirror. "Fuck!"

"What?" Olivia flicked a glance her way and sat a little straighter in the seat.

"Black Taurus three cars back. It's been with us since we left the House." Chelsea cursed her fatigue. She should have noticed long before now.

Not turning her head to look out the back window, Olivia peered intently into the rearview mirror. "I've got it. Can you see the plate?"

The earlier teasing mood was completely gone now. Both of them were in full cop mode. "No," Chelsea said in frustration. "He's too far back." Hunching down in the seat, she inched forward and squinted into the mirror. "Wait." The light ahead of them was turning red. "Angle the car like you're taking a right here. Maybe I can get a partial."

"Got it." A rhythmic click announced their intention to turn, and Olivia stopped the car with the nose pointing toward Parkside Avenue.

The new angle was enough. Grabbing the radio from her belt, Chelsea keyed the mic. "Dispatch, this is Badge 7214. I need a wants and warrants on New York plate Edward Adam Henry 4933."


	9. Chapter 9

The light changed. Olivia ignored it – and the angry honks from the cars lined up behind her. After a minute, shouts joined the sound of car horns.

"Aren't you going to drive?" Chelsea divided her attention between a very calm looking Olivia and the silent mic in her hand.

"Sure." With a smirk, Olivia glanced through the windshield at the traffic light. The car stayed put, though, and the light changed from green to yellow. It stayed there for a few seconds. Then, as the light signaled red, Olivia jammed her foot on the gas pedal and the car shot through the intersection.

Now the blaring horns came from _all_ around them as cars anticipating the green light from the other directions braked to avoid hitting them.

Turning around in the seat, Chelsea saw their followers trapped at the light with the rest of the cars. "You doubling back?" she asked.

Olivia reached under the seat between them and retrieved the bubble light. Tossing it onto the top of the car, she took a sharp right onto Woodruff. "I just hope we can catch them. I'm sure they know we spotted them now."

The radio crackled to life as the car flew down the street. "7214, that car was reported stolen this morning. RO is one Robert Johnson. Address 16 West 75th."

"10-4, Dispatch. 7214 out." Chelsea hooked the mic to the dash. "Well, that was useful. Of course the car's stolen." Hand flat against the roof of the car, she braced for another hard turn. "Why the hell would we have a tail? We're chasing a dead man!" Unless, she acknowledged with a shiver, the tail had nothing to do with their case.

"Don't ask questions we can't answer, Rookie. Save them for the guy driving the car." Cars tried to bail out of their way as Olivia turned onto Parkside and headed back toward Flatbush Avenue.

Unfortunately, even with the light and sirens, the tail car had had time to disappear.

Completing their next trip down Flatbush at a crawl, Olivia and Chelsea peered into every parking lot. "Damn it!" Chelsea snarled when they couldn't find the car. "We lost them."

"Yeah." Olivia was far less concerned by that fact. "I'm betting the 7-1 finds the car abandoned near the subway station."

Chelsea tried to be as philosophical. Staring at her hands fisted on her thighs, she struggled to relax. Deep breathing, closing her eyes…nothing helped. Too much had happened in the last twenty-four hours. Her muscles ached and burned with continued tension.

Observant as always, Olivia picked up on that. "This isn't about our case, is it?" Her head turned and she pinned Chelsea with a glare. "I thought you said your fucked up personal life wasn't going to get me killed?"

"It's not," Chelsea answered tersely. Then she slammed a hand into the dash. "At least, I don't think it will."

Stilted silence filled the car, both of them working on regaining control and dealing with the situation.

Staring grimly out of the windshield, Chelsea offered a truce…of sorts. "Look, Liv. The reason I was at the House last night. Munch knows the whole story, and he's helping me with it. If it looks like that's the reason for the tail or for anything more than just a long lost relative popping out of nowhere, I'll bring you up to speed." It was the best she could do. Chelsea wasn't ready, despite their status as partners, to give Olivia that much insight into her past.

From the flush crawling up Olivia's face, it wasn't going to be good enough. "Look, Lake…" Olivia started to say.

"That's all you're getting." Jaw clenched, Chelsea regretted – again – transferring from the Brooklyn SVU. At least there she'd worked mostly alone. Cops were always too curious, and they saw too much. Partners…They were just a pain in the ass whenever you needed to keep something private.

Olivia was stonily silent for the rest of the drive.

Even though it didn't bode well for their relationship, Chelsea was glad of the respite. Eyes closed, she pretended to nap, mind racing over the events from the last day. She needed to talk to Munch. He'd been planning to call the social worker who'd handled her case. Maybe he'd found something. She needed to run another check on Anshu.

The internal to do list went on and on until the car stopped moving and the engine shut off.

"Ready for your first glimpse of the Widow McLaren?" Olivia asked quietly.

There wasn't any discernable anger in her voice, and Chelsea looked at her intently.

A wry smile indicated an olive branch as Olivia continued. "Make sure you're ready for anything. As soon as she sees me, I'm betting we hear more than a polite good morning. Gunfire wouldn't be out of the question."

"Now whose personal life is going to get us killed?" Feeling a little better about their partnership, Chelsea climbed out of the car and made sure her gun was easily accessible. "We have a plan or are we going to let her shoot us?" she asked as they made their way up the front walk.

Olivia shrugged. "The plan? Make sure to duck if you see a gun." With a cheery smile, she knocked on the front door.

***

Munch's hand was smooth and dry against Faith's weapons-callused palm. She noted the information automatically as she tried not to yank her hand away. Her muscles quivered from the strain of resisting her instincts for self preservation.

The moment passed without incident, though.

Their hands separated and Munch gave her a sardonic smile. "Nice grip." He wiggled his fingers for a second before winking at Nicole. "Don't forget to be careful out there, young lady. There won't always be a handsome and heroic detective sergeant around to protect you."

Even as Faith edged for the door, she had to smile at Munch's teasing.

"Yes, sir. I'll do that." Nicole's polite response sounded extra sincere when she drawled them. She flicked a quick glance between Faith and Munch. "Thanks for the snack, too. I think it might be a while before I see breakfast." There was enough wry self-mockery in her voice to imply a long talk with Willow was on her schedule.

Faith forced herself to nod in agreement with the unspoken comment and took another step toward freedom.

That's when Willow stepped in. She placed her hand firmly on the small of Faith's back again, rubbing soothingly. "Let's go, ladies. Nicole's right. We have a very busy morning ahead of us." She frowned in Nicole's direction. "And I'm sure Sergeant Munch has his own work to do."

Munch coughed and covered his mouth with one hand when Nicole slumped and trudged sullenly to the door. "Enjoy the rest of your stay in New York, Ms. Rosenberg." He turned away and wandered to a paper-strewn desk.

With Munch's eyes no longer on them, Faith relaxed enough to accede to the palm steering her to the doors. She followed Nicole on shaky legs and leaned into Willow's supportive hand. It felt good and seemed to bolster her flagging strength as they returned to the now busy hallway. Thanks to the increased foot traffic, Faith kept her voice low as she muttered, "Thanks, Red," before stepping away from Willow.

Silence reigned as the trio trotted down the stairs to the lobby. Unlike the first time, Faith was able to harness her nervous energy and avoid doing another Slayer Sprint. Even without the speed, though, she was panting and drenched in sweat by the time they exited the building into the weak winter sunlight.

As soon as they reached the car, Faith dug the keys out of her pocket. She needed to sit down. Soon. Her legs were vibrating and she wasn't sure how long they would continue to hold her up.

Nicole had other plans.

Before Faith could insert the key into the lock, she felt Nicole's hand seize her shoulders and spin her around. With a loud thud, she slammed back into the front quarter panel and the keys skittered across the hood onto the pavement.

"Are you crazy?" Nicole nearly shouted.

Several pedestrians gave them a wide berth and _all_ of them watched the byplay avidly as they went by.

Moving in close and pinning Faith to the car, Nicole said with less volume – but no less intensity, "You went into a police station. A police station!"

As her adrenaline faded, Faith lost her sense of humor. She glared back at Nicole. "Really? I thought it was the fucking candy store." Shoving Nicole back a step, she crossed her arms over her chest. "Did you think I was gonna leave you there, Nic? I'm the Head Slayer on this trip. Now, there's a lot of people that think I ain't up to the job. Me, included. But even I know you don't leave one of your own behind."

A jangle distracted her.

Faith looked toward the sound and saw Willow scooping the keys off the ground. Seconds later, Willow slid behind the wheel and a dull click announced the rest of the locks releasing.

Not budging, Faith waited for Nicole to make her next move.

"You know what? You aren't crazy, Faith." Nicole sounded very certain and very serious. "I'm not sure what you are – but crazy isn't it." Looking suddenly exhausted, she opened the back door and climbed into the car.


	10. Chapter 10

Faith stared at Nicole through the car window. The younger Slayer had her head back and her eyes closed. For an instant, Faith felt the old urges begin to take over. Her hands clenched into fists and rage swept through her. Almost high on the energy and the need for a fight, Faith took a few steps toward the closed rear door. Nicole needed to remember who she was.

Her right hand lifted. It touched the door handle.

Suddenly, the car engine fired up, shocking Faith out of her anger.

Stepping back, she spun away from the car. What the fuck was she thinking? As pedestrians flowed in increasing numbers around her, Faith realized that she _wasn't_ thinking. That had always been her problem. She'd always specialized in: act, screw up, _and then_ think.

The anger began to drain away. Shaking now, from lack of sleep and shame, Faith slowly faced the car a second time. She opened the passenger-side front door and climbed in. "Thought you were gonna leave me behind for a second, Red." No way did she want either of the other women to know how close to the edge she'd just come. There were enough problems for them all to deal with right now.

"Then you shouldn't pout on the sidewalk." Willow grinned impishly and pulled out into traffic. Horns blared all around them, and a few drivers showed off their New York hospitality with raised fingers and curses yelled out of open windows.

The grin was infectious. Faith's lips twitched. She fought hard…and lost. "I'm a Slayer, Red," she said as her dimples made an appearance. "We don't pout. We scowl."

"Right. That's why you looked like Nicole kicked your puppy. You were scowling." Willow stepped on the brakes to avoid running a red light and then turned to face Faith. "I'll have to write that down. Webster's must have the definition of 'scowl' wrong."

The last of the anger and fear from earlier faded away at the teasing. Settling back and relaxing in the seat, Faith reached out and poked Willow's shoulder. "I'm gonna have to keep an eye on you, ain't I? You're slipping. First there's this thing with the vamps and Lake, and now you can't remember what words mean."

They shared a chuckle and then Willow sobered. "As soon as we get back to the hotel, I'll give Giles a call. I think it's time we had a real conference call - all of the Council researchers on this project and all of the Juniors here in town, too."

Willow was right. Faith turned her head to look at Nicole.

Looking tired but alert, Nicole stared back. "What do you need me to do?" she asked.

"Get the minis on the line. Tell 'em they _all_ need to be at the hotel in an hour." Faith thought fast. That was going to be far more people than they could squeeze into their room. "Red, that dump of a hotel's got a conference room, right?"

Willow nodded. "Yes, but I don't know that we can get one without a reservation. This is New York, not Sunnydale."

"Do whatever ya' have to. We're looking at twenty Slayers being in the same place. Unless you want 'em sitting in each others' laps and getting crumbs on your side of the bed, we need another room." Faith stretched out her legs. "I'll give Tweed a call while you call the hotel." She smirked. "Don't think the phone bill's gonna be small this month." Nicole was on her phone in the back seat as Faith reached for the one stuffed in her back pocket. Willow already had hers pressed to her ear.

***

Taking Olivia at her word, Chelsea moved into a defensive stance and rested her hand on the butt of her gun. Muscles tensed, she listened to footfalls inside the house.

"Who is it?" a woman's voice called out.

Olivia didn't say anything. Instead, she smirked at Chelsea and cocked her head at the door.

"NYPD, ma'am," Chelsea called out. She glared at a silently laughing Olivia. "We need to talk to you about your ex-husband."

The door wrenched open. "Are you people deaf or just stupid?" Dressed in a robe and nightgown, Mrs. McLaren glared at them through the screen door. "I have nothing to say to you, and if you come back again, I'll file harassment charges. Charlie's been dead for years. If you don't know whatever it is by now, it ain't important."

The door slammed so hard the screen door slipped from the latch and bounced against the frame.

Fin had been right about the Widow McLaren. She definitely didn't like the police. Oh, well. Stepping up to the house, Chelsea opened the screen door wide and pounded on the heavy wood door. "Open up, ma'am. There's been some new information about Mr. McLaren. We need to talk to you."

Her fist swung at empty space as the door unexpectedly ripped open again.

Chelsea staggered forward from the momentum. She managed to sidestep Mrs. McLaren and ended up in the shabby entry hall.

"Get out of my house!" Mrs. McLaren demanded.

"Ma'am…" Chelsea turned slowly to face the other woman, just in case Olivia hadn't been joking about the shotgun. She relaxed only slightly when the weapon of choice appeared to be a Louisville Slugger and not the barrel of a Remington pump-action.

Mrs. McLaren advanced with the bat raised to shoulder level. "I told you people to stay the hell away from me."

"And _we_ told _you_ we might have more questions." Olivia had followed Chelsea into the house. Standing behind Mrs. McLaren, she watched the older woman closely. "Put the bat down before I have to arrest you for threatening a police officer."

It was a nice try. It didn't work, though.

Inching away from the bat, Chelsea saw Mrs. McLaren's eyes narrow. "You can't arrest me. I haven't hit anyone yet."

Chelsea moved another step away at that "yet."

"Besides, you came into my house uninvited and without a warrant. I'm entitled to defend my home – even from the cops." The bat lowered, though, and Mrs. McLaren sighed. "Look, what's it gonna take to get you to leave me alone? I ain't seen Charlie since two…three years before he died. I don't _know_ anything."

It was the perfect opening. Praying that she didn't spook Mrs. McLaren, Chelsea sidled past her. "My partner has an order for your ex-husband's exhumation, ma'am. If you don't mind signing it, we'll be out of your hair." She smiled as charmingly as she could while Olivia fished the document out of her pocket.

The bat dropped further until the head rested on the floor. "Well, I…I suppose I could do that," Mrs. McLaren said. Holding out her hand, she asked, "You'll pay to put him back in the ground, though, right? I can't afford to bury him a second time. Those coffins are expensive."

"The city will pay for it, Mrs. McLaren." Olivia wiggled the paper a little. "All we need is your signature."

"Fine." Snatching the form from Olivia's hand, Mrs. McLaren turned to a battered table and scrounged through the contents of its single drawer until she found a pen. Seconds later, she shoved the document back at Olivia. "I'm holding you to your promise. Don't come back. I've got a friend in the Brooklyn DA's office, and he said I can sue the city if you harass me."

Olivia took the form and returned it to her pocket. "That's all we need, Mrs. McLaren." She backed toward the door with her hands raised.

Following quickly, Chelsea fled the house, too.

The door slammed behind them, and Olivia pumped a fist. "Yes!" When Chelsea looked at her in confusion, Olivia explained. "When he heard about the exhumation request, Fin bet me two tickets to the Knicks. Half court, fifth row up."

***

By the time they walked into the hotel lobby, the conference room had been booked for their use. Faith watched uniformed hotel employees buzzing around the large room, wheeling in steaming carts of food and setting up the teleconference equipment.

"Yeah, Tweed. Red's sitting on the head guy's shoulder right now, making sure the equipment's just right. We ain't got no Juniors, though. Gonna take 'em a few with all the traffic and shit," she said into her phone. The connection was bad, and the static made her head hurt.

She still managed to pick up his pained sigh. "Yes, I understand that, Faith. However, can you fill me in on what Willow found out about Detective Lake's past? I'm afraid without that, we have very little to go on and nothing new to report."

"Giles," Faith was tired enough to drop her usual nickname for him, "you ain't listening. This meeting ain't about you telling us what you got. It's so Red can tell _you_ what _she_ knows and then for all of us to figure out what the fuck we're gonna do. The plan we got now sucks, and I ain't sending no more minis out to trail Lake again. We got away with one today. They catch another tail, and they ain't letting her go without a shitload more explanation than we gave 'em this morning."

A wave caught her attention. "Looks like some of the kids are here." Faith walked toward Nicole. "I'm gonna let you go while we get everybody sittin' down."

"Yes. Yes, all right, my dear. I'll do a little of that myself. I daresay this will be a lengthy meeting," Giles replied, and the phone went dead in Faith's hand.

Shoving the phone into her back pocket, Faith strode up to Nicole. "How are we doin' on the rest of the kids?"

"Cam and Jessie are here. They hopped a cab from that diner across from the police station. The rest of the gang's stuck in traffic." Nicole smirked. "I think I'm going to ask Juanita to teach me Spanish. I want to know what some of those words she used meant."

Faith chuckled. "It ain't the meaning that's important, Nic. It's whether or not you can actually _do_ them." Scanning the activity in the room again, she realized that most of the employees were gone. "Grab some breakfast before everyone shows up and beats you to it. I gotta check in with Red." She clapped a hand on Nicole's shoulder and went back across the room.

"We're ready, Faith," Willow called out when she saw her approach. "Did you talk to Giles?"

"Yeah, he's having a fit of them vapors about the meeting. You know he hates not being Answer Guy." Faith sat on a table and planted her boots in a chair. "You need anything from me?"

Biting her lip, Willow shook her head. "Not…not really," she mumbled. From the way she bounced on her toes and avoided Faith's eyes, though, it was clear she was lying.

Faith slid to the floor and walked over to Willow. "Hey," she said softly. "What's wrong, Red?"

"Nothing." Willow wrung her hands. "Really, I…"

Taking the twitching hands between her own, Faith shook her head. "I ain't buying it, Red." She pulled Willow over to a chair and pushed her into it. "Tell me what you need. I wanna help."

Willow bit her lip some more before reaching for her computer bag. "I had this faxed to the hotel. One of the desk clerks brought in a few minutes ago." She pulled out an envelope stuffed with paper and held it out. "We need to talk about what's in here…"


	11. Chapter 11

"Is the stuff in there gonna blow up or something, Red?" Faith eyed the envelope uneasily – Willow's solemn face didn't make her feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside. In fact, she was glad she hadn't made it to the breakfast bar yet. Her stomach and throat burned from a sudden increase in acid.

The sour taste in her mouth continued to grow when Willow didn't laugh or even crack a smile at her attempt to joke. "Ah…the documents won't." Now Willow flashed a wide and patently false smile.

"But?" Faith knew there was one.

Blushing bright red and wiggling, Willow mumbled, "I'm afraid _you_ might."

Faith carefully set the unopened packet on the table beside her. "Newsflash, Red. I was right there on the edge less than an hour ago." Meeting Willow's eyes, she didn't mention _how_ close to disaster they'd all been outside the police station.

There was something…A flash of understanding in Willow's eyes. A sad droop to her lips. Willow already knew what Faith had hoped to keep hidden. "It's important, Faith. I wouldn't bring it up if it wasn't."

"Tell ya' what. We got Tweed and his tea-drinking mini-tweeds waiting for our call and a horde of hungry Juniors on their way here." Faith picked up the envelope and held it out to Willow. "Unless the shit in here is gonna help with that, you hang onto it until after the Scooby meeting."

Willow took the envelope back, clutching it against her chest. "It can wait – but not for long. Promise me you won't 'forget' or run off with Nicole to avoid taking a look at the information." Resolve Face hovered nearby. Faith saw Willow's face start to harden in the dreaded pattern.

No way was Faith messing with that. "Red, you got my word." She bit back a curse as soon as she made the vow. Her word didn't mean jack, and Willow would be the first to point that out. Rushing to correct her mistake, Faith tried again. "I'll sit right here for the meeting, Red. As soon as you hang up the computer, we'll go to the room and read the shit together."

A slender hand shot out. "Deal."

Slowly, Faith extended her own hand and shook Willow's. "Deal," she echoed softly. Willow didn't immediately release her hand, and Faith waited for a second before yanking a little. "You wanna let go?"

There was a second's hesitation before Willow dropped her hand. She started to say something when the door to the conference room sprang open and the rest of the Junior Slayers charged in.

"I better head them off at the pass," Faith murmured. She watched Willow intently, wondering what was going on. Before she had time to press for an explanation, Faith's enhanced hearing picked up several angry voices across the room. "I ain't much better at Spanish than Nic, but the minis ain't happy about something." Reluctantly turning away, she trotted over to the new group.

Chanise and Juanita were toe to toe. "Maybe you should let one of us drive next time. You almost got us killed!" Chanise growled.

Damn it. Faith lunged past a few gawkers and gripped the younger girls' shoulders. "Lock it down. Now!" she ordered. Chanise's muscles bunched, and Faith stopped merely holding and began digging her fingers into Chanise. "You want me to make you part of the wall, kid?"

"It would be better than making me ride with _her_ again!" Chanise said loudly. "She can't drive. It was like she _aimed_ for the sidewalk or the other cars. I thought getting Called meant dying at the hands of a demon or a vampire – not some bitch who can't tell the gas pedal from the brake!"

The situation was serious so Faith bit her lip to hold back her chuckle. "Look, Chan. Cars and Slayers don't mix. Have you seen B drive?" She knew none of the current group had, but her words got their attention. Buffy was Slayer Numero Uno. "Girl's got a death wish. People dive off the sidewalk when they see her comin', and she's had more fender benders than NASCAR."

"Yeah," Chanise grumbled. "I've heard that." Then she glared at Juanita. "I also know nobody let's her get behind the wheel."

Faith sighed. "We got bigger problems, Junior. You know what happened to Nic. Before I have to kick your ass, get some breakfast and sit down. Red's getting the big call set up. We should be having tea with the Tweeds in a few minutes." She waited long enough to make sure no one else was going to be a problem before trudging back across the room.

God, she was tired. Faith rubbed the back of her right hand over her burning eyes. They needed to get this over with. "Get Tweed on the line." Faith held up an apologetic hand as soon as the words popped out. "Sorry, Red. Didn't mean to go all Slayer on you."

"Looks like you might have had reason." Willow typed furiously on her laptop. "Are the girls going to settle down? We can do this in our room if having them here is a problem."

It was tempting. "No," Faith said reluctantly. "One of 'em may have an idea or something. Besides, if it was you…Would you sit down here stuffing your face while somebody else called the shots upstairs? They'll be OK once we get started. If any of 'em start any trouble, though, I'll sit on 'em".

A grimace answered her. "Good point." Willow's fingers stopped moving. "The call is all set. I'm just waiting for Giles to answer."

"Hope to fuck he's paying attention and not handing out them little sandwhiches." Faith sat down next to Willow and leaned her head back. "If he don't answer soon, I'm gonna be out for the count."

"Me, too." Willow's voice was garbled by a yawn. "You'd think after eight years of helping save the world, I'd be better at no sleep."

Chuckling, Faith forced herself to sit up again. "Don't think it works that way, Red. You're getting up there in years, and old people need more sleep. Kinda surprised you're doing this good. Think we've been up for almost twenty-four hours."

A beep from the computer interrupted their conversation.

"Giles is ready," Willow announced. Seconds later, an image flickered on the large projection screen on the front wall of the conference room.

***

"You're playing me, right? Ain't no way Old Lady McLaren gave up the goods." Fin leaned against his desk and frowned. "What really happened out there, Rookie?"

Chelsea bit back a smile. If he thought she was going to disagree with Olivia's version, he was sadly mistaken. "Well…" That didn't mean she wasn't going to tease a little. "Mrs. McLaren really wasn't happy to see us." Settling farther back in her chair, Chelsea propped her feet on her desk. "I remember this bat about to put a dent in my head."

She could feel Olivia watching her. Hell, she could feel _all_ of them watching her.

"In the end, Liv talked her down. She was real smooth. Even called Mrs. McLaren 'ma'am.'" Chelsea finally smiled at Fin's loud groan. "You owe her the tickets, Fin."

"Can't believe I gotta tell my girl she can't go with me to the game." Fin sat down, and scowled. "You know how long it took me to find a guy willing to sell those to me?"

His comment almost made Chelsea feel bad about what she was planning to do. Almost. "Oh, Fin?"

He spun in his chair. "Yeah?"

"Maybe your girlfriend will feel better when she knows you won't be going, either." Chelsea met his eyes and winked. "After all, while Liv was busy getting that paperwork signed, _I _was the one about to get a Louisville Slugger insignia tattooed on my forehead. _Liv_ owes _me_."

She never got to hear Olivia's response. The captain's door slammed open and then closed. "Did I miss a memo somewhere? One giving all my detectives the day off?" Cragen demanded as he joined the group. "I could have sworn we had a dozen open cases."

Everyone scrambled to belatedly look busy.

"Lake and I got the exhumation order, Captain. We dropped it off to Novak on the way back." Olivia stretched her hands over her head. "And we picked up a tail on the way over. Stolen – and they managed to get away."

Chelsea avoided looking across the desk at her partner. Instead, she shuffled some papers into a neater pile. "Friends of McLaren's maybe," Chelsea softly contributed. She really didn't think so; she simply wasn't ready to tell anyone except Munch the truth.

Olivia's stare burned into her. "I don't know…" She leaned forward and put her elbows on her desk. "It doesn't feel right. We have nothing on McLaren since the thing last night. No more bodies have turned up. I think it might be something else."

Things went from bad to worse. "What's on your mind, Liv?" Cragen asked.

There was no immediate response, and Chelsea slowly looked up. Olivia met her eyes and arched an eyebrow in a silent, _The ball's in your court._ She wasn't ready…Chelsea clenched her teeth. Her comfort level wasn't the most important thing. Keeping Olivia alive was. "It's not Liv, Captain. The tail…I think they were following me."

***

Giles' peered uncertainly at them from the wall. "Hello, girls. Are we ready to discuss what happened this morning?"

"Ain't much to say, Tweed," Faith was quick to say. She wasn't dragging Nicole through another rehash. Not with the rest of the Juniors in the room. "All you need to know is we stopped keeping tabs on Lake. She's on her own."

As she expected, the news didn't go over well. "You cannot leave her…"

"We can, and we did," Willow interrupted. She stood up and glared at the screen. "I hope everyone is paying attention. A lot's happened in the last few hours and the plans are changing – with or without your cooperation, Giles."

Faith covered her mouth with her hand to hide a grin. She wanted to wave her arms and cheer. When Willow got pissed, she didn't take shit from anybody – not even Giles. "Hey, kids," she called out. "Bring drinks and plates and get your asses in closer. We all have to be part of _this_ talk." Maybe adding a few more people would calm the situation down. Then she remembered the standoff between Chanise and Juanita. Maybe not.


	12. Chapter 12

CHAPTER 12

Faith was only dimly aware of the Junior Slayers following her suggestion. Most of her attention was on the screen. Giles hadn't taken Willow's comment well. He glared angrily into the camera. "My dear Willow, our job is to protect Ms. Lake. She is integral to the prophecy. Without her, we risk…"

This was getting them nowhere. Faith was too tired to watch Giles and Willow have a pissing contest – no matter how amusing it might be. "Listen, Giles, I ain't got time for this. Me and Red are running on fumes. Fuck, most of the kids are, too. We're stretched too thin, and you're way off base with the assignment." She didn't add that they still weren't sure their information on the prophecy itself might be off. "Sit back, grab some tea, and let Red explain things."

His glare transferred to her, and Faith met it calmly. If he didn't back down soon, she'd pull the plug on the conference. Working alone wasn't new, just more risky.

"What have you discovered?" Giles finally unbent enough to ask. He moved away from the camera and Faith glimpsed other people in the room with him. Most of them wore the same pinch-faced disapproval Giles had sported. So much for the 'new' part of the New Council.

Willow picked up the conversational ball. "The reason Lake seems unaware of what's happening? She _is_ unaware, Giles. She's completely clueless."

That got Council attention. Mumbles filtered through the speakers and tweed-clad bodies shifted on the screen.

Sharing a look with Willow, Faith rubbed her eyes. "You got questions, boys, better ask 'em now. Otherwise, I'm telling Red to shift into second on the Willowbabble machine to move this along. You musta missed the 'we're tired' thing."

One brave soul risked a painful death if Faith found him. "That's not possible. Of course, Ms. Lake knows about her destiny. The prophecy indicates that she is a leader among her people."

Of course. Faith was glad Willow spoke up before she did. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name," she said in a sickeningly sweet voice.

"Reginald Tottinham-Shaw." Sitting painfully erect, the pale young man peered into the camera through the lenses of his glasses.

Willow's smile disappeared in a flash. "Well, Reginald, you need to learn that prophecies are a big, fat waste of time in the real world. In the real world," her speech picked up speed, "Chelsea Lake is on record as an orphan. She grew up in foster care, probably convinced she didn't have a family. Now, I could be wrong, but I bet that someone who thinks they _don't have a family_ has no idea that they have a starring role in a centuries-old, barely legible prophecy."

Stilted silence filled the conference room as Reginald stared back at Willow.

"Forgive me, Willow." It wasn't Reginald making the apology. Giles looked earnestly at them through the camera. "We never anticipated this eventuality. I don't understand…"

The guiltfest was about to start. "Look, Tweed, I told you about Lake when I called last night. You musta forgot or something. Don't get all twisted up, though," Faith told him to forestall anymore apologies. "Deal and move on. What we need now is the new 411," she hoped they had some, "on what demon we're facing, and then we need a better plan."

"We still aren't completely certain." Giles took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "All the indicators seem to suggest that the evil in the prophesy is vampiric in nature. However, we haven't given up searching for more concrete evidence."

It wasn't great news; still, it had high points. "If all we got are vamps, Tweed, we're in decent shape. Don't have to worry about 'em nabbing Lake during the day." Faith smiled slightly. "Also means there's a little time for planning."

As seamlessly as if they'd rehearsed, Willow stepped in. "We _do_ have some information for you, Giles." She set her laptop on her legs and began typing. "I'm sending you what I got last night through my hook. It's not much…yet. I left a few buried commands in the NYPD system, and I should get updates whenever Lake - or anyone in her unit – uses their computers." Pausing, Willow frowned at the screen. "Can you pull it up, Giles? I think we all need to take a look at it. I didn't have time to go through it. We were…busy with other things."

There was more than just Lake's family information? Faith scooted her chair closer and peered over Willow's shoulder.

Willow glanced up and smiled. "Hmmm, if Faith's interested in what I found, I'm betting all the other Slayers in the room are, too." The smile turned impish. "Scary, isn't it?"

Giles didn't answer, but Faith heard a few chuckles from the speakers and giggles from other tables in the large room. "Laugh it up, Red. Just remember. Slayers may hate research, but we also don't need much sleep. Guess who you're sharing a room with?" Moving out of Willow's personal space, she continued. "Wonder what I could get up to while you're snoring away? How d'ya like frozen…clothes, Red?"

That got a blush and the tip of a tongue poked her way. "Before you count your frozen bras, Faith, remember who _you're_ sharing a room with." As Willow's fingers flew over the keyboard, her eyes closed briefly. When they reopened, Willow's eyes were a solid blue.

"If you two are finished playing," came Giles' dry voice, "perhaps you could help us interpret the information we just received?"

Faith waved a hand in distracted acknowledgment. "Ain't no call to get like that, Red. You know I was just yanking your chain." Pressing back in her chair, she tried to look less freaked than she actually was. No wonder the Juniors were scared of Willow. Not even a Slayer was a match for that.

"And I wasn't yanking yours back?" Willow's eyes returned to normal and she turned away with a smirk. "I've got the information on a screen here, too, Giles. All of us can start reading."

When Faith managed to shake off her unease and turn her head, she saw what Willow had mentioned. A beam of light from a nearby projector threw a large, slightly blurred image of the laptop screen up next to the image of Giles.

"It looks like Lake's discovery about her family wasn't an accident," Willow pointed out. "I'm betting that the man Nicole saw at Lake's apartment started the whole investigation." One of the sections was suddenly highlighted. "Anyone know who Anshu is?"

***

"Did you want to explain that, Detective?" Cragen didn't sound amused, and Chelsea slid down in her chair and studiously avoided his gaze. "Did I miss something in your transfer request? Because I don't remember anything in there about you being at the center of a death threat."

Wondering why in the hell she'd elected to blurt out the truth, Chelsea quietly answered him. "This is all new, Captain." Inspiration struck. "And I haven't really kept you out of the loop. I came to Sergeant Munch as soon as I knew something might be wrong."

Cragen digested the information for a minute. "John?"

"The rookie's telling the truth, Captain," Munch answered. "She came back in looking like a night on the town gone bad and asked for my help." Chelsea had to work to keep her laugh on the inside at Munch's description. "It seems Baby Chelsea wasn't left on the doorstep with a note pinned to her blanket the way the records say. At least, not according to the guy waiting at her apartment."

Chelsea slowly raised her eyes to find the entire squad staring at her. With an uncomfortable shrug, she took over where Munch had left off. "I grew up in foster care. No family, not even that long-lost uncle that most orphans dream about." Chelsea recapped her encounter with Anshu and her subsequent return to the stationhouse. "The Sarge was going to do some checking on the social worker while Benson and I were on the road," she finished quietly. "I haven't had a chance to check in with him since we got back."

"What ya' got for us, Munch?" Fin spun in his chair to look at his former partner. "I mean, my family ain't real friendly these days, but even they don't grab me on the street or follow me in stolen cars."

Munch snorted. "That's right; they only steal them." He smiled when Fin growled back at him then sobered before continuing. "I wish I had something solid. I reached out to an old friend in ACS. He had a few interesting things to say about Wilson Grant."

"The social worker who handled Chelsea's case?" Olivia leaned forward. "Are you sure this isn't just another one of your conspiracy theories, Munch?"

"It has all the earmarks. Government cover ups, squeaky clean records, and mysterious agents," Munch shot back. "I'm not going to rule it out; however, that isn't the important thing right now."

A cold lump developed in Chelsea's stomach. Munch lived to irritate them all with his theories about governmental misconduct and clandestine military operations. If he was ignoring those for whatever he'd uncovered… Clenching her hands into fists, she gritted out, "What did you find?"

"It seems Mr. Grant was the ideal employee. Handled all of his cases without complaint. Never called in sick. Filed all his paperwork on time, too," Munch recited.

"So the man was a saint. Big deal. You got that smirk on, Munch. The one that says you got some dirt." Fin's voice was irritated. "Stop playin' to the crowd and finish the story before we all look as old and skinny as you."

Normally, Chelsea enjoyed the banter between the two. Right now, though, her nerves hummed with a tension that grew with each passing second. "Munch?" It was a strained plea for mercy. She couldn't take much more.

"Wilson Grant, ladies and gentlemen," Munch answered Chelsea's plea, "was exactly what he appeared to be…until I found out he suddenly announced his plans to retire and do some traveling."

"Travel where?" Chelsea said sharply. Her nerves were ready to snap.

Munch steepled his fingers and gave her a steady look. "Mr. Grant has a desire to see the world." He must have sensed Chelsea approaching the breaking point; he rushed on. "His last day at ACS is tomorrow, and he's booked on an evening flight out of Newark." That information passed on, Munch dropped his hands and went back to his usual slow and deliberate delivery. "The truly interesting thing about all of this is how Mr. Grant is financing his trip."

"Let me guess, he recently deposited a large sum of money?" Cragen asked, rubbing the back of his neck.

Chuckling, Munch shook his head. "For the first time in his life, Mr. Grant stepped out of his perfect little box. He didn't have one large deposit. He had two. One posted to his account last night."

"And the other?" Chelsea prodded when Munch fell silent.

"The first took longer to track down," Munch answered. "Luckily, Mr. Grant's had the same bank account since 1965. I wonder how a social worker earned $500,000 in 1974?"


	13. Chapter 13

"Bet he didn't win the lottery," Fin said dryly. "You thinkin' he got paid off?"

Munch merely spread his hands and shrugged. "What other explanation could there be? Our Mr. Grant seems to stumble into monetary windfalls every time Chelsea – or her mysterious family members – comes onto the scene. The bigger question," he continued, "is why?"

"Maybe not." Despite the unease coiling through her at having this conversation with the squad, Chelsea's mind raced. "We have a decent idea _why_ he got paid. To hide me." The rest of the clues didn't add up, though, no matter how she tried to piece them together. "_Who_ paid him, Sarge?"

Rubbing the back of his neck, Cragen perched on the edge Munch's desk. "Normally, I'd say the Mob."

Everyone looked at Chelsea, and she felt a blush heat her cheeks.

"We need to consider other options this time. Chelsea doesn't really fit the Mob profile," Cragen summed up. "Unless," he gave a quirky smile, "there's a new Native American Family we haven't seen before."

It was exactly what Chelsea needed. The good natured teasing broke at least a portion of the tension. Lounging back in her chair, she eyed the Captain. "Be careful," Chelsea warned in a soft voice. Putting on her best Italian accent, she told him, "You nevah know whena I'ma gonna be behind yous."

The room exploded in laughter. "And, on that note, I'm going back to work." Still grinning, Cragen handed out the day's assignments. "John, I want you to head up the investigation into this thing with Lake. Until we have something more concrete than suddenly-discovered relatives, it's on your own time." The words were sober; they had far more pressing case files on their plates. "Benson, you and the Godmother over there keep tabs on the exhumation. I want to know the minute the body hits the exam table."

As if Cragen had flicked a switch, the detectives sprang to life. Olivia grabbed the handset of her phone and began punching in numbers. "Got it, Captain. I'll give Warner a call and see if we have an ETA for autopsy."

He nodded. "Fin, meet Stabler at the courthouse. His testimony should be over by ten…"

Chelsea tuned the rest of the words out. She idly took one of the files out of the tray on her desk and opened it. The words never made it into focus. Munch's words rolled around and around in her head. Someone had paid Grant off. Why? Who the hell bought off a government employee over some possibly-orphaned Indian baby?

A heavy stare interrupted her musings. Slowly, Chelsea raised her eyes and replaced the file on her desk. Olivia gazed back. "Are you ready to roll? Novak must have lit a fire under someone. McLaren's already on his way to the morgue. If we go now, we can grab lunch and be there for the show."

Shaking off her own problems, Chelsea stood and stretched. "Ready when you are." Then, because the last few lunches had somehow managed to be 'her treat,' she reminded Olivia, "The food's on you, though. My wallet's empty. Being a rookie again tapped me out."

Olivia arched one eyebrow. "Get used to it. Before I transferred to Sex Crimes, I spent three years wining and dining my Vice squad." She pocketed her keys and strode for the door. "Just remember, Lake, being a rookie is a privilege – not a right. You have to keep earning that pretty gold shield. Lunch is a small price to pay." Her mocking comment drifted over her shoulder as she shoved the squad room doors open.

"Great. Not only am I being stalked by long-lost relatives, I'm being fleeced by my coworkers," Chelsea muttered. Using her longer legs to advantage, she easily caught up with Olivia. "If I'm buying, I get to pick the place." Payback was going to be fun. "There's a Moroccan restaurant on the way that has the best couscous in Midtown."

She fought a chuckle at Olivia's grimace. "We make two stops. One for your…food." It was clear Olivia was stretching her understanding of the meaning to include the couscous. "I'm thinking a slice from Angelo's will hit the spot."

"And Second and 55th is suddenly on the way to the morgue?" Chelsea stopped in the middle of the hallway and waited for Olivia to answer.

With a wide smile and a very badly managed innocent look, Olivia replied, "I did say the body was on the way." She pushed Chelsea back into motion with a hand on the small of Chelsea's back. "I may not have mentioned that the trip would take a while since they were just winching the casket out of the ground. We probably have another couple of hours until Warner opens him up."

***

Giles shook his head. "I've never heard the name. Is it someone you met in New York?" He reached out of view for a moment and then his hands reappeared with paper and pen. "Anshu, you said?"

"Yeah, Tweed. Nic saw the dude try to grab Lake outside her apartment last night." Faith turned around and waved at Nicole. "Tell 'em what you remember, Nic." She could do it, but the Watchers needed to get used to the Juniors being a part of the action.

It was clear that Giles wasn't the only one startled by her gesture. Nicole rose reluctantly from her seat and stepped forward. "I didn't see much," she mumbled.

"Nic…" Faith wasn't up to games.

Flushing, Nicole went ramrod straight. "Sorry, Faith. Um… Last night when I was following Lake, some guy came up to her when she got to her apartment building. I was too far away to hear everything. I just got his name and something about Lake's grandmother and Lake being in danger." She frowned. "Wait…I think…He also said that Taka...Takahari was gone?"

She had Giles' attention. "Nicole," he inquired intently, "could he have said Takarihoken was gone?"

"I guess." Nicole didn't sound very certain. "I was standing across the street, Mr. Giles."

"You got something, Tweed?" Faith interrupted quickly. She winked at Nicole and tilted her head at a nearby chair. "Sounds like the same thing Nic thought she heard." She hoped so. They needed a break on this one. So far, nothing had panned out.

Fussing with his tie, Giles didn't answer right away. He sat back away from the camera and tapped his pen on the pad in his hand.

"Giles?" Willow asked only a second before Faith could.

"If Nicole did, indeed, hear the phrase Takarihoken then that would imply Ms. Lake is somehow tied to the Mohawk tribe of Native Americans. They were once a large presence in the American Northeast." The pen tapping stopped as Giles continued. "Perhaps that is the link we have been missing."

Faith jerked as Willow sat up and snapped her fingers. "The last heir," she said excitedly. "The prophesy mentions something about the last heir of Taharihoken." Once again, machine-gun typing sounded and the information on the screen next to Giles changed. "Here. Look, Giles. Takarihoken is the Mohawk Lord of the Iroquois Confederacy."

It was news. Faith wasn't sure what it all meant; however, Willow was intent on the computer so it must be good. "Look, Tweed, Red's gonna turn this over to you." She ignored the mutinous glare she received from Willow. "She's gettin' too old to be losin' this much sleep. You can call us later when ya' got the goods on this Lord Whoever."

Now Faith got a second glare – this one from Giles. "Faith, this may be the final piece of our puzzle."

"Don't care." Faith stood up. "You got two jobs, Tweed. Figure out the new shit about Lake's family, and find us a way to keep her safe that don't mean puttin' the Juniors at risk. That's it." She met his eyes through the lens of the webcam. "Any questions?"

For an instant, it appeared Giles might argue. His face flushed and he leaned forward.

Faith tensed and got ready for battle. God damn it. Didn't he get it? They'd been at this too long. They were tired, and tired Slayers made mistakes.

"I'll send you what I have, Giles. It's a website with a translation of the Constitution," Willow said, interrupting their standoff. "It would be better if you could find the document in the original language."

"Yes," Giles replied with a wave of his hand. "I'll have the research team begin searching for it. I still believe that we would be better served if you and Faith were part of the process." He grimaced and the waving hand came up in a clear "stop" gesture. "However, I also understand your fatigue. If we discover anything pertinent before you awaken, I'll email you the results."

Relaxing with the realization that Giles wasn't going to argue anymore, Faith shook her head. "You get something good, or you need a team to check on this Anshu, you give Nic a call. She's in charge while me and Red crash."

That got an immediate response. "Faith, are you crazy? I'm not…" Nicole was pale and wide-eyed.

Faith grinned. "You said it yourself, kid. I ain't crazy; just… no one's been able to figure out what I really am." She turned away and took the laptop off Willow's legs. "You got plenty of backup and a place to hang out. Tweed'll make sure we got this conference room for you and the Juniors for the next coupla days." She ignored the splutter from the speakers and set the laptop on the nearby table. "What else we need, Red?"

"Nothing I can think of." Willow looked longingly at her computer and sighed before picking up the envelope she'd shown to Faith.

"It ain't gonna go anywhere, Red." Faith rolled her eyes at Willow's attitude toward the laptop. "Nic will make sure nobody so much as touches it. Right, Nic?"

Nodding, Nicole said reassuringly, "I'll put a pair of the girls next to it, Willow. If you don't mind, Sharon's pretty good at the hacking, too. She can help Mr. Giles with the research." One of the newer Slayers hovered right behind Nicole. "If that…hook or whatever you have is still there, she can monitor it in case the cops find anything else."

The look on Willow's face was priceless. "Uh…" Faith thought she might grab the laptop to keep it safe.

"Good idea." Faith began dragging Willow toward the doors. "Might want to teach a few more of the kids to do the computer shit. You know, in case Red breaks a finger or somethin'?" Giggles followed them out into the hallway.


	14. Chapter 14

"Break a finger?" Willow echoed. "The only way I'm going to break anything is if you keep hauling me around." She firmly planted both her feet on the ground and grinned up at Faith.

Faith raised an eyebrow, looked pointedly at Willow's defiant stance, and smirked. "Nah. I won't need to break anything, Red." With a single tug, Willow was moving again – this time at a far faster pace. When they finally reached the bank of elevators, Faith stabbed at the call button with an impatient finger. Her smirk faded as she regarded Willow soberly. "I know it ain't the norm, Red, leaving the Juniors to do the work. It's gonna _have_ to be if we ain't all gonna end up like B. Worn out, pissed at the world, and hidin' who the fuck knows where."

"Rome," Willow murmured.

Her reply coincided with the ding of the elevator arriving. Faith waited until they were inside to ask, "Rome what?"

Covering a yawn with her hand, Willow explained. "Buffy's not hiding. Well, not really. She's in Rome." Her eyes flickered to the numbers slowly lighting over the elevator doors. "She always talked about traveling and seeing the world. I get postcards whenever Buffy goes someplace new. The last one was from Rome."

The car slid to a halt and the doors opened. "Huh. Does Tweed know?" Faith didn't think so. Giles had looked like he'd bitten into a lemon the last time she'd mentioned Buffy in front of him.

"I…" Willow bit her lip, and Faith watched her chew voraciously as she fumbled the keycard into the lock. "Probably not." The abused flesh didn't get a reprieve after the answer. Willow went right back to nibbling on it.

"B still pissed about the whole Spike thing?" Leave it to Buffy to lose her father-figure over her vampire lover. "She shoulda listened to me. Fuck 'em and toss 'em." Stripping off her overshirt, Faith tossed it on the small table near the window and collapsed onto the bed.

The bed depressed next to her and Faith looked up. Willow lay at the foot of the bed, head propped on her hand. "Do you really think I buy that, Faith?" She wrinkled her nose. "I haven't been that stupid since high school." Flashing an impish smile, Willow added, "I hope not, anyway." The smile dimmed slightly. "We both know you aren't like that, Faith. There hasn't been a string of warm bodies flowing in and out of the Council building, and you haven't tied a scarf to the doorknob here. You can stop with the act."

Faith didn't know what to say. How had they gotten sidetracked? Scrambling to hide her unease at Willow's all-too accurate statement, she changed the subject abruptly. "I'm ready for some shut-eye, Red. You wanna tell me what's in that envelope now? Or we gonna wait until breakfast?"

She'd expected a glare or a dramatic sigh at the blatant avoidance. Instead, Willow sat up as if she'd been pinched. "Oh! The envelope." She blushed and then went pale. "No. We…we definitely need to do it now."

From the sound of Willow's voice, Faith didn't think Willow really wanted to do it now at all. "Look, Red, it can't be that bad. I mean, unless you got some other prophecy stuffed in there." She narrowed her eyes at Willow. "That ain't it, is it? Some piece of shit saying I'm supposed to go out in a big blaze a glory?" She waited tensely for Willow to respond.

"No." Willow hopped up and retrieved the envelope from the other bed and then returned. "It doesn't really have anything to do with Slaying, Faith." She held it out, and the stiff paper of the envelope shook visibly. "Open it," she said quietly.

Faith wasn't sure she wanted to. There had already been too much drama for one day. She sat up and took the envelope, slitting the seal with finger. A thick stack of paper stuck out of the opening. "Guess you were right. It ain't a bomb," Faith tried to tease.

The joke fell flat. Willow didn't even smile.

"Right." Clearing her throat, Faith removed the papers and peered at the top page. It bore a large, circular seal at the top which read, "State of California." The room spun. Fuck. The cops had found her. Faith heard the rattle of the cell door closing. Her muscles readied themselves for yet another escape. She wasn't going back willingly.

A warm hand landed on her shoulder before Faith could run for the door. "Read it, Faith." Willow met her eyes with an understanding look. "It's…it's not bad news. Really."

Not trusting her voice, Faith merely nodded and forced herself to go back to reading. She frowned. The language was formal and contained words Faith didn't recognize. Giving up, she held the pile out to Willow. "You're gonna have to translate. I don't think they taught this kinda shit in the sixth grade."

That earned her a long look before Willow nodded and took the documents. She never even glanced at them. "They say that you're a free woman, Faith."

Now Faith _did_ make it off the bed. "I'm _what?_" She must have misunderstood.

"You're free. The State of California threw out your conviction." Willow tossed the papers onto the bed and stood, too. "After the First, Giles and I started digging into the old Council records as well as all of your case files. We found a few things."

Stomach cramping, Faith took a step away. She had to get out.

"Faith…" Willow's soft voice dragged Faith's attention back to the conversation. "Didn't you ever think it was funny? How fast you were convicted? Why you got such a long sentence?"

"I killed people, Red. That's what they do with murderers." The words hurt Faith's throat and she reached up automatically to rub at the ache.

Willow took Faith's hand, the slender fingers tightening when Faith tried to pull back. "They do, yes. Normally, though, they only do that when they have enough evidence to _prove_ the person committed the crime. With you…" Sighing, Willow sat down and pulled Faith with her. She drew one knee up on the comforter and turned to face Faith. "They didn't have any evidence, Faith."

That wasn't how Faith remembered it. She remembered the feel of the cuffs on her wrists and the cold, hard chair under her legs. She remembered the staccato pounding of the detective's typewriter as she'd taken Faith's confession. "I told them I did it, Red," Faith said huskily. "Don't need evidence for that."

Unbelievably, Willow giggled. "Actually, they do."

***

Chelsea regretted the couscous. It sat uneasily in her stomach and threatened an imminent return as she breathed in the sickly-sweet smell of formaldehyde and decay in the autopsy room. Pressing a hand over her protesting stomach, Chelsea concentrated on breathing through her mouth.

"What the hell happened to this thing? It looks like someone used it for target practice." Melinda Warner asked as she wheeled the mangled coffin in on an gurney, interrupting Chelsea's preoccupation with her indigestion.

"I think someone would have reported a cannon going off in the cemetery – even in Canarsie." Liv didn't seem bothered by the morgue atmosphere. She peered eagerly at the coffin, trying to get a glimpse of the corpse inside. "Besides, unless Charlie here was doing the firing, you'll have to find another explanation. The box exploded from _inside_." She pointed at the metal fragments and the way they clearly jutted up from the interior of the casket.

Warner chuckled. "I'll mark this one in the books. This job keeps me in scary stories for Halloween. Exploding coffins are new." She parked the gurney in the middle of the room, carefully setting the brakes on all four wheels. "Hand me that crowbar, Liv, and we'll open it up."

Olivia picked the tool off the counter behind her; she did _not_, however, hand it to Warner. Instead, she walked over to the already mangled coffin. "I'm not sure we need it." Using the end of the crowbar, Olivia scraped at the dirt caked around the edges of the lid. It flaked off easily. "We aren't the first people to want to check on the dearly departed."

"It's already open?" No longer conscious of the smells, Chelsea straightened up and moved closer. She couldn't believe it. Once Olivia had cleared away the dirt, it was easy to see that the lid was merely sitting against the side walls of the coffin. "So…" Trying to put the pieces together, she looked up at the other women. "We really _were_ chasing McLaren the other night?"

"It's looking more likely." Olivia took hold of the coffin lid and lifted. More dirt streamed to the floor. "This wasn't a grave robbing. The casket was opened from the inside, and there is no body or skeleton. It takes a strong stomach to steal more than a watch off a skeleton's bony arm."

Melinda tossed her clipboard onto a nearby cart. "You're missing the bigger problem, Liv." She seemed pale under the harsh fluorescent lights of the room.

Shivering suddenly, Chelsea rubbed her hands up and down her arms. "I don't really want to know what else could go wrong with this investigation. We chased down – and then lost – a man who _supposedly_ died three decades ago."

"The man we signed out to the funeral home was definitely dead, Detective." Melinda pointed to her discarded clipboard. "No one survives having their chest cut open and all of their organs removed."

She paused, and Chelsea waited for the other shoe to drop.

Before Warner could finish, Olivia jumped in impatiently. "So we made a mistake on ID. It wasn't Charlie McLaren on the slab all those years ago. It happens. I'll call the Captain and have him reopen the old case. It won't make the Commissioner very happy, but we'll catch the bastard for real this time." She reached for the radio clipped to her belt.

"Liv, you're missing the point," Warner repeated softly, and Olivia's hand fell away from the radio. "You said it yourself. The casket was damaged from _inside_. In my experience, the dead don't dig. Whoever did this wasn't the dead John Doe or Charlie McLaren we signed out. It was a live body buried in that grave."

Olivia wasn't accepting that. Chelsea watched as Olivia frowned and shook her head in denial. "That's not possible." Snapping a hand up to forestall anything else from Melinda, she leaned over the coffin. "I'm not talking about somebody switching out the corpse for a live body. It wouldn't be the first case like that I've worked." Olivia picked up the lid of the coffin and held it out. "This might not be the top of the line; the thing's still got to be a half-inch thick, though. How many people do _you_ know who can rip through a half-inch of metal and then dig up through at least three feet of dirt?"


	15. Chapter 15

Olivia's question didn't really require an answer. If it _had_ required a response, Chelsea didn't have one. Staring at the casket lid, she acknowledged she didn't _want_ an answer. "Do we radio the captain or not, Liv?" Chelsea stuck to business.

"Sure." Olivia replaced the metal lid and stuck her hands in her jacket pockets. "I'm sure he'll be glad to know that, not only did we lose a perp in the park, that particular perp is the not-so-dead Charlie McLaren." Grinning humorlessly, she muttered, "I should have taken that job in TARU. We'll be seeing dead people any day now."

Melinda chuckled. "Let me know when that happens. You can come to work here. I've already got two techs who swear the corpses get up and walk out of the freezers all the time." She unlocked the wheels of the gurney and shoved the empty coffin toward the back of the autopsy room. "Sorry I couldn't be more help, Detectives. If you find me the body, I'll be more than happy to verify he's really dead and not taking a jog in Central Park."

"You'll be our first call then," Olivia said dryly. She turned to Chelsea. "Let's roll. We can figure out how to explain this to Cragen on the drive."

"There's an explanation?" Chelsea wasted no time in striding from the room – and the lingering smells. "I'm thinking we go with the truth." Mimicking Olivia's voice, she continued. "Well, Captain, it looks like we're chasing a dead man." Chelsea switched to a deeper voice. "That's not good enough, Detective. If he's dead, why were you chasing him? And, now that you bring it up, how did you let a dead man outrun you in the park?"

She broke off and staggered dramatically when Olivia slapped her shoulder. "Knock it off." Then Olivia laughed. "Not that it wasn't an accurate scene. Dad is _not_ going to be happy with us. The Chief of D's is already hounding him over that thing with Fin's stepson." Her smile twisted into a grimace. "Not to mention me and El both nearly getting fired."

Chelsea had only the vaguest of details about Olivia's suspension, and no clue about Elliot or Fin. She wanted to ask for more. She didn't. Rule number one of new partner relations: Never ask your partner about their past. Let them tell you when they are ready. It didn't make throttling back on her curiosity any easier. "We tell him; he yells for a while. Got it. After that, though, I'm a little fuzzy. McLaren wasn't a big deal in the crime world. He had some connections, but none of those were so important a family like the Masuccis are going to pull a bait and switch with the body."

"I don't know." Hunching into her jacket for the walk to the car, Olivia glanced at Chelsea. "For now, we go back to the beginning. That means interviewing anyone who ever heard of McLaren."

"You're kidding!" Chelsea stopped in the middle of the parking lot. "The case is thirty years old. How many of McLaren's connections are even alive?"

That earned her a smirk. "Don't know. Maybe they had the same burial plan as Charlie." She unlocked the driver's side door. "Welcome to real police work, rookie."

***

Faith stared at a giggling Willow. What the hell was so funny? They were talking about her not having to go back to prison. Reaching out, she slapped a hand over Willow's mouth, cutting off the laughter. "Willow, I'm all for sharing in the good times. Only…I ain't sure you and me see 'good' the same way." She felt Willow stiffen under her hand and had to blink back a sudden flashback of her in a similar position – with a knife to Willow's throat. She was still grappling with the memory when Willow nodded slowly.

Faith let go with shaking hands, and Willow cleared her throat and watched Faith intently for a moment. "Sorry." She sounded as if she meant the apology. "I didn't mean to sound like I wasn't taking this seriously. It is serious." She ran her fingers through her hair. "How about I explain the conviction and then go back to the beginning and walk you through it?"

"Wicked," Faith responded dryly. Talking about her time in Los Angeles was a favorite topic. She needed some distance for this conversation. Faith slid up on the bed until she could lean against the headboard and watch Willow. "Tell me how bein' guilty ain't enough to keep me behind bars." That point confused her the most; it was a good place to start.

"You confessed to killing Finch and the professor," Willow said, echoing part of Faith's previous comment. As if sensing Faith's desire for separation, Willow didn't follow her example. Instead, she took a position at the foot of the bed. "We know that you actually _did _what you said. The law, though, doesn't consider a confession sufficient proof of guilt."

Frowning, Faith tried to understand that. "Why the fuck not? I did it. I gave 'em all the details, too. Shit no one else would know." Her right hand clenched. She really _had_ told the police everything. She'd been too close to the edge to hold anything back – even a description of how the professor's blood had felt as it spilled over her hands.

"Because it's too easy to simply confess. I could walk into a police station and tell them I'd murdered Jimmy Hoffa." Willow shrugged. "False confessions happen all the time." Her quirky smile reached out to Faith, urging her to share in the funny. "Lots of crazy people out there, you know." Then the smile dimmed. "Convicting with only a confession is more difficult because there's so much information available that it's easy to get at least some of the crime scene details right. So, to keep from convicting innocent people, the police have to find _some_ evidence that what the person tells them is the truth."

"They had it, Red," Faith said immediately – and then paused to think about that. "At least, they did with Finch. I left the stake behind." Buried in his chest and covered in blood. "That's why the cops were after me and Buffy. 'Cause people were used to seeing us carry 'em," she finished in a strained and husky voice.

Stretching out across the bed, Willow agreed. "They had the evidence when the accident happened, sure," she answered blithely.

Faith started to protest the statement. Accident? One look at a suddenly glaring Willow had her resettling against the wall. "What happened to it? I mean, you said they _had_ it."

"We don't know for sure." Willow relaxed again, and her glare softened as she continued to watch Faith. "I figure the Mayor got rid of it. You were working for him. Having you arrested not only looked bad for him, but it meant he didn't have you to run errands for him."

For once, Faith wasn't interested in arguing over her role in the Mayor's plans. "Gotcha. No evidence, no arrest. They didn't have anything from the professor. The cops in LA didn't have a clue who he even was." It made sense, and Faith was starting to believe this wasn't a dream. Squelching the rising hope inside, she pushed for more. "How're the Tweeds connected? You said you were reading some records…"

"Yes. Lots of them" Willow sat up and moved closer. "It's a little confusing. The tie, I mean." She smirked at Faith. "If I promise to try to stay on track, will you give me a chance to go through all of the explanation?" She waited for Faith's nod before continuing. "When the First blew up the main headquarters, it destroyed most of the research documents. It didn't, thankfully, do that with the actual Watcher records. You know, the Diaries and personal accounts of the Watchers."

Wondering what this all had to do with her, Faith idly played with some loose threads on the comforter. "Yeah," she answered shortly. Trust Willow to take the long route to the important information.

"One of the Diaries was yours, Faith." For the first time, Willow seemed slightly uncomfortable. Biting her lip and wiggling, she shifted on the bed and avoided Faith's eyes. "From your first Watcher."

"No way!" Faith leaned forward and gripped Willow's arm. "No fucking way. Kakistos killed Lady D." She sucked in a deep breath and forced her fingers to relax their hold. Bruises were already forming on Willow's skin. Faith flinched at the sight; one more display of how little she'd changed. "I went back to her place after…" Her voice faded as the memories tried to overwhelm her. Reeling from the images of the past and the bright red marks on Willow's arm, Faith fought for control. "I went back. The whole house was empty, like no one'd ever been there."

"The Council cleared out her things, Faith. They didn't want to risk anyone finding out about vampires and demons." Willow's hand reached up to tug her sleeve down to cover the bruises before creeping across the space between them and touching Faith's leg. "You didn't go back right way, did you?"

"No." Eyes burning at the memory of how she'd run and hidden from Kakistos, Faith blinked to hold the tears at bay.

The stroking on her leg got more noticeable. "I'm glad." Willow tilted her head so Faith couldn't see her eyes. "That you didn't go back, I mean. The Council wasn't…" She clutched Faith's thigh for a second before resuming the caresses. "There were letters with the Diary."

When Willow broke off, Faith reached out. Her hand trembled and she was _very_ careful not to grip Willow's chin too tightly this time as she pulled Willow's head up. "Letters?" Faith choked out. There were tears in Willow's eyes. Faith's stomach cramped and for a minute she thought she might throw up. "What did they say, Red?"

"It isn't important." Willow tried to pull away suddenly, face pale and resolute.

"The hell it ain't." Faith tightened her hold fractionally. "You started this, Red. Finish it. There ain't nothing you can say I ain't heard before." She hoped. "What did the Council want to do?"

Willow tried to remain firm. She glared at Faith with her lips in a tight line.

"Red!" Faith didn't want to leave anymore bruises; that didn't keep her from leaning closer until she was mere inches from Willow, though.

Slumping in reluctant defeat, Willow resumed her story in a hyper-speed mumble. "They wanted to deactivate you – with the same drug they used for Buffy's Cruciamentum. Your Watcher was fighting them over it, refusing to use the stuff they'd already sent her."

Faith's arm dropped away from Willow to join its mate in wrapping around her body. Shivering convulsively, she collapsed back against the pillows and tried to make sense of it all. They'd wanted to deactivate her. Before Sunnydale. Before Finch. Before… Faith closed her eyes. Before she'd willingly donned her Dark Faith persona. The pieces of Willow's story began to come together. "They were the ones that got me sent up, ain't they?"

"Yes." Willow moved until she sat right next to Faith. One arm slid behind Faith's back, pulling her against Willow. "And no."

That got a reluctant laugh. "Make up your fucking mind, Red. Did they or didn't they? It's a simple question." One that Faith thought she knew the answer to.

Her surety shattered when Willow continued. "It really isn't simple. In fact, the reason those papers didn't get here sooner was because it was so not-simple." Willow shook Faith lightly. "Hey, stop looking like I just stole your best pair of leather pants. This is the good part."

"Knew you'd like this part, Red. You always were the president of the Faith Went to Prison Fan Club," Faith snapped. She wrenched away and stood. There couldn't be any good in this; the Council had been trying to take away her Slayer abilities. They'd known, all the way back in Boston, that she wasn't good enough. Willow was just dragging it out to torment her.

"Oh for Goddess' sake, sit down." Willow followed Faith off the bed and poked a finger into her chest. "I get that you don't like the Council wanting to turn you into a normal human. Get over it! It's old news. Focus on the new information. You're free, and if you stop acting like an idiot, I'll explain how. If not…" Willow's tirade faltered and her finger stopped jabbing Faith. "If not, I can't stop you from leaving. No one can anymore." She back up a step, head bowed. "All the work and research, and you still think…"

Willow had a point. Still raw and reeling from the Council's plans, Faith turned her head and stared at the discarded paperwork. She was free. _Free_. Willow had done that for her. Faith was free. Her next breath didn't hurt as much as the last. She was free, and the old Council was gone. "What else you got, Red?" Walking on stiff legs to the bed, Faith resumed her seat.

"Lots!" Seemingly affected by Faith's change in attitude, Willow dove onto the bed and seized both of Faith's hands.

"Thought we'd get at least a little sleep before the Juniors were knocking at the door," Faith couldn't resist teasing. Her emotional rollercoaster car was heading rapidly back up the next hill, and Willow's new, infectious grin was helping it pick up speed.

"Just for that, I'll make sure to list every single journal, book, legal website, and boring brief I had to read." Willow winked and rushed on. "Or not. That sleep sounds really nice, too." Keeping their fingers twined, she wiggled into position against Faith. "You know what happened in Sunnydale. We're going to skip that part."

"Can we?" The car teetered at the top of the hill. "If the Tweeds wanted me gone, they missed a lot of chances."

"So not skipping." Willow scowled at Faith for a second. "Fine. I'll skim. When you hit Sunnydale, the Council records only have a few entries. They were willing, at first, to let Giles handle things. They were happy with him, and… well, you were on a Hellmouth. A vampire could do the deed as well as a drug."

Faith could almost hear a British voice enunciating that last phrase. "Guess they didn't count on me bein' so good at my job."

"Exactly." Willow bumped Faith's shoulder. "When things got dicey, though, they sent in the extraction team. The records are incomplete, but I'm sure you'll agree they weren't there to escort you back to a reeducation facility."

Nearly dizzy from the changes in mood, Faith nodded. "Yeah. Doubt I'd have made it to the airport." The helplessness and rage flooded back as the room around them disappeared and a very smug Wesley and his Council friends dragged her out of Angel's mansion.

"Too bad you got away." Did Willow sound happy about that? Her beaming smile seemed to say yes. "They lost track of you once you left Sunnydale. At least…until you surfaced in LA. That's where the complicated part comes in."

"We ain't got to that yet?" Giving Willow a disbelieving look, Faith shook her head. "It's like some fucking movie or something."

"One with a happy ending, Faith." As if sensing Faith's spiraling emotions, Willow squeezed Faith's hands tightly. "And we're almost there. The Council tipped its hand when they sent the team to Los Angeles. The guns and the helicopter were too much. After your confession, one of the detectives on the case started poking around, trying to find information on you and Angel. The Council got worried and it pulled back. Your conviction had nothing to do with them."

"Then why the fuck did I end up in prison?" Head pounding, Faith slumped against Willow. "You just said the cops didn't have enough to put me away." She hated the hint of whine in her words.

One of Willow's hands moved up to massage Faith's temples. "I have four words for you: Wolf, Ram, and Hart."


	16. Chapter 16

Faith laughed humorlessly. "Guess they weren't real happy that Big A was still undead and brooding, huh? Or that he was trying to help me." Leaning into Willow's stroking fingers, Faith sighed. "I fucked up, Red. Everything I did…" Her words faded as the massage stopped and a finger tapped against her temple.

"I'm sorry. What was that?" Willow's next tap was particularly energetic.

For an instant, Faith stiffened. Then she gave up. "Whatever. We ain't ever going to agree on that, Red." Letting the subject drop, she went back to the original topic. "So Lilah and her boy toy set me up when I didn't kill Angel like they wanted, and the Tweeds let it happen. Got it." It made a sick sort of sense. Faith's eyes closed again as she tried to remember the days right after her confession. Events were fuzzy and vague. She hadn't really cared what happened after leaving Buffy on the roof of Angel's building.

Willow's shoulder moved under Faith's head as she resettled closer. "That's what Angel thinks. Gunn found some memos in the Wolfram and Hart files; it looks like Lilah and Lindsey were playing a pretty good game of 'cover our asses' after you rejoined the Good Guys." Her fingers slid over the left side of Faith's face and then played gently with the wisps of hair near Faith's ear. "I should have told you what we were doing, Faith. I'm sorry."

"For what, Willow?" Not really interested in moving, Faith nonetheless raised her head and opened her eyes. "For keeping me from going back to prison? For telling me the truth about the Council?" For being one of only two people to give a damn about me?

Wide green eyes stared intently at Faith, and Willow's cheeks brightened with a fiery blush.

"Will?" Was something wrong? Faith started to sit up straighter.

"You're welcome," Willow whispered. "I…" She broke off and gripped Faith's hand, keeping her from moving away. "We screwed up, too, Faith. All of us. When I read the memo and then started digging through the Council files, I couldn't believe what we'd done to you."

The words washed over Faith, stinging at first. Finally, after all these years, here was the acknowledgement of how badly the Scoobies and the Council had treated her. The momentary bitterness faded, and a feeling of…unaccustomed contentment and serenity replaced it. "Don't, Willow," Faith said. "It's over. It's history. Let's move on." As much as she'd needed to hear the words, Faith didn't want them to lose sight of what was important. "I'm free. _You_ made that happen. We gotta stop beating each other up over who fucked up the worst." A grin tugged at Faith's lips. "I'll get you some colored pens and shit, and you can start a new list."

"You think we'll need it?" Willow giggled and wiggled her shoulder so Faith's head bounced up and down.

It felt so good here. Faith took only a second to marvel at the way she had surrendered to Willow's soft touch. "Bet on it, Red. Bet on it." The words slurred slightly by the end. God, it had been a long day. Faith opened her eyes wide, trying to push the need to sleep back. There was one more question she needed answered. "What about me breaking out?"

If the seemingly unrelated question confused Willow, she didn't show it. Without missing a beat, Willow said, "Well, we had to do some fast talking with that one." Pausing, she yanked at the comforter under them until it was displaced enough to slide under. "Once the prosecutor found out that you wouldn't sue the state – and him, personally – for wrongful prosecution and imprisonment, it was easy to convince him to go with time served."

"Wicked." It came out flat. Faith couldn't keep up with her emotions anymore. They were up and down so fast and so often… Nearly numb now, Faith slowly grabbed the pillows trapped behind her. "We should do something. Celebrate, you know?"

"In the morning?" Willow's words were punctuated by a yawn.

The action was contagious. Yawning, too, Faith managed to glance at the clock. "Might be up in time for breakfast tomorrow." Swinging her legs off the bed, she stood up. "Come to think of it…lunch is a better plan. Ain't getting up 'til I have to."

That was as far as she got. "You are so not sleeping on the floor, Faith." Willow wrapped her fingers in the belt loops at the back of Faith's jeans and tugged. "I'm too tired to tie you up and have my way with you tonight. We'll try that tomorrow as part of our big celebration."

Faith chuckled and reached back to untangle Willow's fingers. "Thanks, Red. I was real scared of that." Getting free, she spun until she faced the other girl. "Don't take it personal, Willow," she said, serious now. "I don't do 'sleeping together.' Never have. I'll use the chair." She pointed to the chaise in the corner.

"Get in here. Now!" Willow pointed an imperious finger at the bed. "That chair looks ready to fall down, and…has it been cleaned in recent memory?"

Since Willow brought it up, Faith peered at the cushions. They were darker in places. "It's all good, Red. This ain't the Sunnydale Motor Inn. It ain't gonna fall down." Grabbing the covers on the bed, she tugged them up to Willow's chin. "Sleep tight, Red. We'll plan the big party when we wake up. I've already got the whips and chains on the list, though."

***

The words of the report blurred in front of Chelsea's eyes. Closing them, she rolled her head. Sleep wasn't an option. Not yet. Not for – she cracked one burning eye open and looked at the computer screen – another four hours. "You know, Benson, real police work is easier than I thought." Chelsea closed the manila folder and tossed it on the pile next to the keyboard.

"How's that?" Olivia didn't even look up from her own report.

"I've read the entire case file on Charlie McLaren. Twice." Standing up, Chelsea placed both hands on her lower back and stretched. "Five of his eight known associates are dead."

That brought Olivia's head up. "Read the reports again, Lake. We thought the same thing the last time we looked at them." A hint of a smirk played over her lips. "Keep in mind that Charlie looked pretty dead on paper, too."

Narrowing her eyes, Chelsea refused to laugh at the joke. Humor took energy, and Chelsea didn't have any to spare. "Why don't we just go back to Canarsie with a handful of exhumation orders? If we start digging now, we might have all of the old gang on slabs by the weekend."

"Hey, don't get mouthy, rookie. I'm just making sure we don't take the wrong information to Cragen again." Olivia's smile faded, and they shared a pained look. The earlier conversation with the captain had been anything except pleasant. Sitting back in her chair, Olivia closed the folder in her hands. "I have to admit, though, that I'm drawing a blank, too." Stifling a yawn, she glared at the mess on her desk. "You said five were dead. Remind me what's up with the other three?"

"Prison." Not wasting time on explanations, Chelsea dug a legal pad from under a teetering stack of folders and read from her notes. "Robert Simpson. Been in Fishkill since eighty-five for two counts of felony murder after a robbery attempt. Turned state's witness a couple of years ago and earned a better quality of cellmate and a lot less barbed wire."

Olivia snorted. "We put 'em away, and the DA cuts a deal to lessen their pain." She sounded resigned to that fact. "Simpson's in the clear. It's hard to arrange to dig your friends up from prison. I'll check the visitor logs, though, in case he's more of a mastermind than we think."

"Well, if you want to read more reports, my money's on the next guy. Paul Dutton." Chelsea retrieved the file and held it out to Olivia. "He was Charlie's go-to man on most of his jobs. Nasty character."

She gave Olivia a chance to skim the record. "Shit!" Olivia's eyebrows rose sharply as she read. "Maybe Cragen wasn't far off with his Mob idea."

Nodding her agreement, Chelsea reluctantly sat back down. "Yeah. I saw the notes in the margin, too. You think Dutton could have used his connections to the Masucci's to swing a deal for his buddy Charlie?" She watched Olivia intently, waiting for an answer.

"Maybe," Olivia said slowly. She read through the information again. "It doesn't track, though. If Dutton was important enough – and that isn't too likely since he wasn't ID'd as a Masucci employee until a few years ago – why use his influence for McLaren and not himself?"

"I hate you." Chelsea gave in to exhaustion and laid her head on her desk. "Couldn't you at least let me have _some_ hope that we'd found an answer?"

The squad room doors flew open suddenly. "Stop napping on the job, rookie," Munch announced as Chelsea jerked erect. "I'm starting to like you, and the captain doesn't take kindly to his detectives taking time out for mundane things like sleep."

Staring at Munch through exhausted and blurry eyes, Chelsea asked incredulously, "How can you be so…so _awake_?" Chelsea knew he'd been up at least as long as she had. She was about to slide under the desk, and Munch looked like he'd stepped out of the pages of _Geriatric GQ_.

"I don't have a slave driver of a partner like Benson, here." With a smirk in Olivia's direction, he strode past and sat down at his desk. "It makes a difference, let me tell you."

"Huh. I'll keep that in mind the next time Cragen asks for my opinion on partners. You think he'd let me tag along with you?" Chelsea winked at a scowling Olivia. "You have years _and years_," she enunciated, "of experience for me to draw from."

Toasting her comment with his coffee cup, Munch laughed. "A sad, and yet true, statement, Chelsea. Now tell me…why do both of you look like the Chief of D's put you back on traffic duty?"

"Traffic would be a field day compared to this," Chelsea answered moodily. Although Munch's attitude amused her, it only emphasized the apparent futility of their search for answers about McLaren. And, Chelsea admitted shamefully to herself, she didn't want to talk about her current case. She really wanted to question Munch about Anshu and any leads he'd managed to find about her past.

"Not to fear, rookie. Sergeant Munch is here to rescue you." If Munch continued to be so chirpy, Chelsea might consider stuffing him in McLaren's empty coffin. "Put down those musty reports and gather round. I have news."

Fatigue vanishing, Chelsea shot out of her chair. "What? What did you find?"

Munch's cool gray eyes regarded her unflinchingly. "I discovered that a certain tiny bundle of joy isn't as alone in the world as she once thought. In fact," Munch continued with a sweeping wave of his hand, "I'd say she has a very large family, filled with some very important people."

"Munch!" Chelsea took a single, warning step closer. "Get to the point."

"That is the point, Chelsea. You aren't an orphan. Far from it." Reaching behind him, he lifted a notebook from his desk. "I chased down Mr. Grant before he boarded his flight. With a little gentle persuasion – and a few threats about jail time for accepting bribes – I convinced him to give up all his secrets."


	17. Chapter 17

Chelsea stared at Munch in shock. "He talked?" She didn't believe it. _Couldn't _believe it. Her legs started to shake, and she dropped back into her chair. "What…what did he tell you?"

"There's a lot, Chelsea," Munch replied. "Some of it generated more questions than it answered." He tossed the notebook across the room. It landed dead center in Chelsea's lap. "You can take a look at my notes later; I'll give you the Cliff's Notes version now."

Gripping the notebook tightly in her hand, Chelsea felt all of her muscles stiffen.

"Grant came to work early one day back in '74. Apparently he did that all the time. Only this time, he didn't find the building empty. There was a man waiting for him – and he had a baby with him."

"Any ID on the man?" Olivia leaned forward intently.

Although the interruption grated on Chelsea's quivering nerves, she was glad Olivia had spoken up. She'd wanted to ask the question herself, but the words wouldn't come.

"No name, I'm afraid." Munch smiled sardonically. "That doesn't mean we don't have a pretty good idea. Before I lose my train of thought, though, let me get to the rest of this chapter in the story. The man gives Grant a duffel bag full of cash and the baby. Tells him that he can't keep her safe and then disappears."

It was a letdown. Munch had implied he had far more information. "How does that help?" Chelsea snapped. Damn it! She was tired and Munch was pushing her buttons with his teasing. "We'd figured that part out for ourselves."

The squad room was silent for a second. "And that's all we would have had, rookie." The nickname shattered the previous stillness and warned Chelsea that Munch was on edge, too. "Lucky for us that Mr. Grant was a very smart and curious man. He did some investigating of his own – right alongside the cover up of his new-found wealth. The bag that the money had been left in yielded a few clues."

The anger faded, and Chelsea focused on Munch's words. A clue. There was a clue that might lead to her family.

"Under the money, Grant found a string of shells," Munch continued.

"Shells?" Chelsea gripped the notebook so tightly it bent in her hand. "What do…"

Olivia jumped in before Chelsea could complete her question. "Shells from the beach, Munch?" She shot Chelsea a look that clearly said, _Back off if you want him to finish_.

"I don't know if they came from anything so plebian as a beach." Chelsea could feel Munch's eyes on her as he resumed talking. "Grant didn't look there. He recognized the way the shells were strung together. It was a particular ritual strand called _wampum_."

The word was vaguely familiar. "_Wampum..._" Chelsea repeated, trying to bring recall where she'd heard that before.

She took too long. "A string of shells used as a ritual communications device by several tribes of Native Americans," Munch informed her. "Apparently, Mr. Grant discovered that the types of shells used in this string, whelk and quahog clam, were most commonly used by the Iroquois or the Eastern Algonquin tribes."

It was the first time in her life that Chelsea really gave thought to her past. "Did he…Was he able to connect the shells to a specific tribe?"

"No." Munch watched her intently. "That was as far as Mr. Grant got." A small smile crept out. "However, the title of Sergeant is not bestowed on the faint of heart. I continued the work begun by our intrepid, though corrupt, social worker."

Chelsea couldn't help grinning in response to his words. Munch had the answers. Of course he did. "And?" She took a deep breath, preparing for the news.

"And there are too many Native American tribes in New York to pinpoint one in particular from just those shells. However," Munch turned back to his desk and typed on his keyboard for a second, "the name Anshu is a traditional Mohawk name. It would appear, Chelsea, that your late-night visitor and long lost relative has inadvertently solved our puzzle."

***

Faith shot straight out of the chaise at the knock on the door.

"Uh…Faith? Willow? Are you guys in there?" Chanise called out tentatively.

Heart pounding, Faith slowly lowered the knife she'd automatically pulled from the sheath on the table next to her. "Yeah. Hang on, kid." Glancing at the bed, she saw two green, sleep-encrusted eyes peering at her. "Looks like the celebratin' may be on hold, Red. Rise and shine."

A grumble followed her to the door. "Why do people always wake us up before get enough sleep?" Willow asked. "I mean, we've only been sleeping for…" Her voice trailed off as Faith reached for the door handle. "…twelve hours," Willow finished in a squeak.

Faith's fingers froze. "You're shitting me. Twelve hours?" She looked at the bedside clock as she unlocked the door and turned the handle. The red numbers on the small clock read seven forty-five.

Before Willow could answer, Chanise stepped into the room. "Sorry for the wake-up call. We waited as long as could. We've got new information, and Giles thinks he's figured out the missing part of the prophecy."

"Whoo hoo." Faith yawned and ran a hand through her tangled hair. "We rushing off for the big battle or do me and Red have time for a shower and food?"

"Faith!" Willow looked rumpled and grumpy across the room. "You think with your stomach." With a final glare (and a barely hidden smirk), she turned to Chanise. "What happened?"

Glancing back and forth between them, Chanise hesitated. "Not battle," she finally said. "At least…not yet. There was some activity from Lake's computer, and Sharon was able to trace it. That guy Nicole saw at Lake's apartment. Anshu? The cops figured out he's a member of the St. Reginald Mohawk tribe. A personal messenger of their War Lord."

It didn't mean much to Faith. Willow, though, was bouncing on her toes. "Taharihoken, right? We knew that. Was Giles able to get more, though? You said something about the prophecy."

Chanise backed up a step. "Um…I don't…"

"Fuck, Red, give the kid a break." Faith winked at Chanise and then pointed a finger at Willow. "I'm willing to forget about the big celebration you promised me. For now." She couldn't keep from grinning at Willow's blush. "I ain't missing out on the shower and breakfast, though. If the news was all that important, the phone woulda been ringing off the hook by now."

Willow pouted slightly. "Fine. I guess I can wait that long."

"Won't be that long if you stop whining and hit the shower," Faith pointed out. Ignoring the choked off giggle from Chanise, she took Willow by the shoulder and steered her into the bathroom. "Make sure I got some hot water left, will ya'?" She closed the door behind Willow and turned back to Chanise. "When you get downstairs, tell Nic I want a table full of food ready."

"Anything else?" Chanise opened the door slightly as she asked the question.

Faith almost let her go. "Wait!" She changed her mind as the younger Slayer stepped into the hall. "Got one more thing." Grabbing her wallet from the dresser, Faith dug a couple of twenties out. "Flowers."

Chanise's eyes widened.

"For Willow," Faith clarified impatiently. "I'd get 'em myself, but…" She stopped abruptly. No matter how much she owed Willow for taking care of her conviction, Faith had no intention of admitting to Chanise that she'd never bought flowers before. "Here. The gift shop had some shit. Saw it in the window," she said gruffly.

The shower shut off. Faith was running out of time.

Stuffing the money in the astonished Chanise's hand, she slammed the door in the other Slayer's face as a towel-wrapped Willow emerged from the steamy bathroom. "Is everything OK?" Willow asked, staring at Faith as she leaned against the closed door.

"Five by five." Faith flashed a smile at Willow. A smile that wasn't very convincing, apparently, since Willow's left eyebrow climbed into her damp bangs. "You done in there?" Edging away from the door, Faith noticed the towel start to sag around Willow's breasts. Fuck. Nearly gasping aloud, Faith yanked her eyes away and sprinted for the bathroom.

The door closed, hiding Faith away from Willow's piercing gaze. "What the fuck is _wrong_ with me?" she mumbled as she stripped off her clothes and stepped under the warm shower. Flowers? A sudden urge to peep at Willow? "Think freedom's making me crazy." Gripping the tap, Faith changed the temperature as a deterrent to any more urges to ogle Willow.

By the time she dried off, Faith had herself under control. At least, she hoped so.

All her inner pep talks and the cold shower were wasted. The room was empty when Faith went in search of clean clothes. "Figures," Faith reminded herself. "Bet Red's making sure Sharon didn't break the computer and catching up on the prophecy crap." She yanked on a pair of jeans and a wife beater. In deference to the winter weather, she added the heavy Lakers sweatshirt Angel had given her for Christmas before heading for the conference room.

The hotel was quiet. Faith enjoyed the solitary walk, taking the stairs rather than the elevator. The few people she did see… She made sure to smile and nod at them. The specter of prison guards and the phantom sound of her prison cell door slamming were absent. Her smile stayed in place as she dodged clumps of Junior Slayers and waiters.

Her goal was the row of tables groaning under the trays of food. She never made it. "Faith!" Willow's shout cut through the low murmur of voices in the room.

Changing direction without slowing, Faith strode to Willow's table. "You been spending too much time with Little D. What's with the yelling?" She dropped into a chair and peered at Willow's laptop. "Thought we were going to save the research until _after_ breakfast."

Willow's hand shot out and smacked Faith's shoulder. "No. _You_ made that decision. I overruled you. Research first, food second." She grabbed the laptop and tilted the screen. "Chanise only got it partly right."

Faith forgot all about breakfast, too. "We got enough weapons and Juniors?" she asked. If they were about to take on an army of vampires, Faith thought they might need to call in reinforcements – magical and otherwise.

"Not yet." Willow pointed to a specific line of text on the computer. "Luckily, we have a little time. An entire week, maybe."


	18. Chapter 18

"A whole week?" Faith felt the last of her exhaustion fade as a new, restless energy started to build. "That's like a year or two in Scooby time."

Willow smiled slightly. "Maybe, maybe not. If all we had to worry about was killing a bunch of vampires and demons, I'd say we could take a vacation to the beach before the big day." The smile faded. "Unfortunately, the timetable and the other information Giles found makes life a bit more challenging."

Of course. Faith looked at Willow's laptop and started to scan the document on the screen. It didn't immediately make sense; although, she did recognize the word "Taharihoken." "What else did the Tweeds find? And…" Her mind was slowly getting into the game. "What are we gonna do about Lake and the cops?"

A narrow hand smacked Faith's shoulder lightly. "And you claim to be slow."

"Feeling that way, Red." Grinning a little, Faith mumbled, "You wanna explain how I managed to get off the short bus, though? I don't remember doing anything real smart."

"Lake," Willow clarified. "She's the key. According to the Constitution of the Iroquois Confederacy, once Taharihoken dies, there's some kind of ritual mourning period. Ten days, to be exact."

When Willow paused to scroll through the stuff on her computer, Faith tried to find a connection between the ten days and Chelsea Lake. "Uh…"

"I'm getting there, Faith." Willow quirked an eyebrow. "Smart, but no patience. Is that a Slayer thing, or a you thing?"

"Slayer. Gotta be a Slayer thing," Faith answered with a wink. "I mean, you worked with B all those years. How good was she at the book work? We're built for action, not talking or shit."

Willow's eyes slid over Faith's body. "Action… I can see that." She fell silent again, blushing brightly. Then she cleared her throat and pushed the laptop closer to Faith. "Anyway, back to the big news," Willow mumbled. "After this mourning period, the female members of Taharihoken's clan – he's the Mohawk War Lord, by the way – get together to elect a new one." She raised her eyes. "That's when Giles thinks the prophecy comes into play."

Still grappling with the information, Faith held up a hand to halt the flow of words. "OK. So we got a little time to figure out a plan and maybe get some more Juniors and witches here for the big day. Got it." She stood and stretched. "I wanna know about the prophecy in a minute, Red. Right now, though, I'm grabbing breakfast."

She ignored Willow's protest and quickly strode to the buffet. As she piled her first plate with bacon and eggs, a shadow covered the table to her right.

"You gonna stand there or you gonna tell me what you want?" Faith didn't bother to turn her head. Her Slayer senses warned it was one of the Junior Slayers behind her. She continued to move down the table, checking out the rest of the food offerings.

"We all heard about the deadline," Nicole said. The shadow on the table shifted from side to side, and when she spoke again, her voice held a distinctly defensive edge. "I told Mr. Giles to send two more teams of Slayers and their Watchers to help out."

The hashed browns looked good. Faith picked up a new plate and scooped a generous helping out. "And?" Finally glancing over her shoulder, she met Nicole's determined gaze. "You want some kind of button or something? I put you in charge. You made the call. I ain't gonna waste time getting pissed or whatever. Besides, I was just telling Red we needed to bring in more troops."

"You aren't? You did?" Nicole lost her composure – and then fought to quickly regain it. "I mean, I only did what I thought you'd want." It came out a little too fast and high-pitched. Bouncing on her toes, Nicole couldn't quite hide her smile of relief. "The new groups should be here in couple of days, tops. Mr. Giles pulled one of them off the Hellmouth in Cleveland since they were the closest."

From the near-babble speed of the news, Nicole had obviously been spending too much time with Willow. Faith listened to the report with only part of her concentration as she got the last of her food. "Since you probably got more to tell me, carry a plate or two and we'll head back and check on Red. I think she's got some shit to talk about, too. You can both yap while I eat."

In case Nicole had a problem with toting and carrying, Faith shoved the two plates in her hands at her and quickly loaded another plate with toast and doughnuts before filling a mug with coffee. Willow was still bent over the laptop when Faith and Nicole unloaded their burdens onto the table. "Better get something quick, Red," Faith advised. "This ain't gonna be enough to fill me up and there are Juniors licking their lips and eyeing the buffet…"

Willow's eyes rose slowly from the computer screen. "If it looks like they're going to eat everything, I'll simply start turning them into toads."

"Nah. We might need them later." Scanning the room, Faith saw Juanita at a nearby table. "Hey, Crash," she called out. "Get the witch some non-meaty food before she gets bitchier!"

"Faith!" Willow glared at Faith as Nicole giggled. "I'm not…I won't…" She growled and spun in her chair to look at Juanita. "I am _not_ bitchy, and I can get my own damned breakfast."

She was too late with her protest. Juanita shot out of her chair. "Sorry, Willow. Faith bellowed, and I'm not stupid enough to risk a fight with the Old… I mean, the Lead Slayer." Laughter drifted over her shoulder as she trotted through the other tables and groups of Junior Slayers.

Savagely stabbing a knife into a pad of butter, Faith scowled. "Gonna have to work on my rep. Used to be everyone knew I was the baddest Slayer in town. Now you got 'em thinking they can treat me like the Sweet Slayer, Red." She deepened her scowl when Willow smirked. "It ain't funny!" she protested. Or, she tried to. It came out with more whine behind it than snap.

Nicole ended their play. "Have you talked with Mr. Giles, Willow?" She pushed the plates she'd carried closer to Faith and leaned her elbows on the table.

"No. Should I?" Willow, too, leaned in after moving her laptop out of the way. "Is there something he forgot to put in the email? He's always doing that. I guess we should just be glad he'll use it now. For the longest time…"

She was off and babbling. Faith shared a look with Nicole and gently interrupted. "Breathe, Willow. I think Nic wants to fill you in on the latest."

"Oh." Willow ground to a halt. "Sorry." Crossing her arms on the table and laying her head on them, she spoke to the tablecloth. "I get carried away. I don't mean to."

Faith chuckled and patted the top of Willow's head. "Wouldn't be the same if ya' stopped, Red." Then she raised an eyebrow at Nicole to encourage her to go on.

Watching their byplay with a smile Faith didn't understand, Nicole launched into an explanation of the reinforcements she'd called in. "Right now, Mr. Giles is arranging for the new groups of Slayers to come to Manhattan and stay at different hotels. I didn't think that soccer team cover you arranged would work for all of us."

Soccer team. Faith couldn't place that and raised her hand. "For the slow students," she said, ignoring the way Willow's head popped up, "what soccer team? Cover?"

"Remember Detective Munch?" Willow turned away for a second and dug in the computer bag she'd left hanging on the back of the chair overnight. "I used it with him when we picked Nicole up from the police station. Giles and I thought we might have to have a good explanation for all of the girls being together. So we found a big soccer tournament in town, with an international draw, and that's theoretically why we're in New York." When she turned back to Faith, Willow held out a packet of papers. "Fake registration papers for the tournament, and you and I have a document trail that says we're teachers at a private school called The Academy." All of her teeth flashed in an impish smile. "You're the PE teacher, of course."

***

Chelsea should have been upstairs in the crib, grabbing some much needed sleep. Instead, she scrolled through the information on the computer one last time. "You ever been upstate, Liv?"

"On cases, sure. For the obligatory vacation in the Catskills?" Olivia smirked and leaned back in her chair. "Not likely. Why? You asking me to a romantic cabin in the mountains?"

Scowling in mock insult, Chelsea shook her head. "As if." She couldn't keep her eyes from drifting over Olivia, however. "I'm picky about who I spend my time with, you know." In an effort to get back to her original point, Chelsea said, "The Mohawk tribe Munch thinks Anshu…I'm from is upstate. Almost to Canada, actually."

"Ah. Sorry." Olivia held up a hand in apology. "I haven't been that far. El and I stick closer to home with a few trips to Jersey when we can't avoid it. Munch and Fin were up that way on a case once. See if they've been through there." A series of soft pops sounded as she arched her back. "Oh, God. I'm too old for this crap anymore. When was the last time we moved?"

"Last week," Chelsea teased; although, it certainly _felt_ like they'd been at their desks since then. Minimizing the window on her computer, she stood and stretched her arms over her head. "I was going to get some rack time, but I could be persuaded to get coffee and food first, if you want."

That got her a long, intent glance from Olivia. "You aren't planning on heading home." It was a statement, not a question. "If you think there might be someone waiting for you this time, I'll call in some favors and have a pair of unis make sure you get inside without a hitch."

"Thanks." Chelsea tried not to sound too sarcastic. "I'm pretty sure I can handle Anshu if he shows up again, though." He'd gone down easily when she'd fought back.

"You're call." Tossing the folder in her hands onto the desk, Olivia rotated her chair until she faced Chelsea head-on. "I wasn't really thinking of Anshu, though, rookie. Remember the tail this morning?"

She remembered. Chelsea had simply avoided dealing with that possibility. "We don't know that wasn't connected to the McLaren case." It sounded weak even in her own ears. "If he was Mobbed up, we may be rattling a few cages by reopening the case."

"Could be," Olivia allowed. Then she met Chelsea's eyes. "But we aren't. Whoever was in that car wasn't protecting some big Masucci family secret. They were watching you."

It was an unpleasant reminder. Chelsea tensed and forced herself not to look away. "Why?" she asked in frustration. "Why are they watching? What the hell kind of danger could I be in? Nothing we read tonight indicates any threat or power struggle _anywhere_ in the Mohawk nation, let alone to me in particular."

"We're still digging, rookie." Turning her head, Olivia broke their eye contact. "Hit the rack," she continued quietly. "I got some sleep last night; I'll keep searching through the files while you spend some time in the crib. If anything comes up…"

Chelsea wanted to protest, even though sleeping had been a priority only minutes ago. She didn't like leaving Olivia with the bulk of the work. "Look, this has waited almost thirty years. It can wait one more day. Why don't we both go home and sleep? I'll meet you back here in the morning and we'll pick up where we left off."

For a minute, Chelsea thought Olivia would refuse. Finally, though, the other woman climbed out of her chair and put on her leather coat. "Deal." The she ruined the moment by adding, "I'll share a cab with you and get you home safe."

"Liv…" Chelsea started to insist she could get home alone.

"You say no, and the deal's off." Olivia didn't appear to be bluffing. Hands on her hips, she glared at Chelsea. "We're partners, rookie, and we've had this conversation once already today. Partners keep each other safe. Either let me escort you home or get your ass upstairs to the crib."

In answer, Chelsea slipped into her own coat and resettled her gun in its holster. "Home it is." She strode past Olivia and out of the squad room.

Olivia quickly caught up and they clattered down the stairs shoulder to shoulder. Uniformed officers still filled the first floor and tired, rumpled, and frightened civilians paced or sat uncomfortably in the chairs lining the hallways. Despite the crazy McLaren case and her own suddenly uncertain personal life, Chelsea was glad she wasn't on patrol any longer. She'd hated the constant barrage of contact with the public and the never-ending slew of crusty patrol sergeants.

It was a relief to escape the crush of people and step outside. Chelsea took a breath of frigid air. Feeling calmer already, she waved a hand at a cab idling at the start of the block. The engine roared as it dropped into gear and moved closer. After giving her address to the driver, she slid across the cracked vinyl seat.

Olivia repeated the process and slammed the door. She remained silent for the drive, and the quiet lulled Chelsea into a light doze. "Hey," Olivia finally spoke, snapping Chelsea back to full awareness. "We're here. You see anything out of place?"

Like the previous night, there were only a few pedestrians. No one lingered in doorways and there were no figures huddled in any of the cars parked along the curb. "No. You going to insist on escorting me to the door?" Chelsea's hand was on the door handle when a flash of movement caught her eye.

"What's that?" Olivia had seen it, too.

Unsure, Chelsea peered through the dirty window. "I don't…" she started to answer. Then the shadow stepped under a streetlight, and Chelsea relaxed. "Christ, we're jumping at everything. That's just my next door neighbor. She's almost seventy, Liv, and it looks like she's been grocery shopping." The door to the cab opened. "I'm going to help her in. You can sit here and watch, if you want." Looking at her partner, Chelsea said softly, "I'll be fine. Mrs. Zamudio's seventy, if she's a day. I'm sure I can hold her off if I have to. Go home, Liv. I'll see you in the morning."


	19. Chapter 19

The cab pulled away – with Olivia inside – as Chelsea trotted down the sidewalk. "Hey, Mrs. Zamudio. Let me help you with your bags." She reached out a hand without waiting for a response. It was late and cold and her neighbor shouldn't be carrying all those groceries on her own.

The scarf-encased head rose. "Thank you, dear. I didn't think anyone else was out right now. Even that boy down the hall stayed in today." Mrs. Zamudio cackled. "I thought he might do something like that Ralphie character -you know, the one in the Christmas movie? - yesterday when he was showing off for his friends. I even had that digital camera my daughter bought be ready just in case."

Snickering, Chelsea imagined that scene. The 'boy' Mrs. Zamudio referred to was in his twenties; although, he certainly acted far younger when he preened and posed for the young women in the neighborhood. "Well, if you manage to get a good shot, give me a call. I need something to put on my 'fridge."

As soon as she said the words, Chelsea regretted them. "You know, dear, if you had a good husband, you wouldn't need me to take pictures for you." Mrs. Zamudio's eyes were sharp and piercing as she allowed Chelsea to open the door to the apartment building and lift the rolling cart inside. "You could have children – and _they'd_ give you plenty of things to use as decorations. I still have some of my Maria's drawings and artwork."

It wasn't a subject Chelsea intended to discuss. She ignored the pointed comment and hefted the cart's handle over her shoulder. The metal dug painfully into her collarbone despite her bulky coat. "I'm surprised you're out this morning. You're usually up with the birds, but the weather is awful." she said. "Why didn't you call for a cab? It's a long walk from the store." Not to mention the chore of hauling everything up three flights of stairs. Chelsea shifted her burden into a more comfortable spot and began the climb.

"Oh, a little walk won't kill me, Chelsea. I may be old, but I'm not feeble," Mrs. Zamudio responded briskly. "I needed a few things, and once I was shopping, it didn't make sense to wait for another few days and make a second trip. Besides," Chelsea heard the older woman's shoes scuffle on the stairs behind her, "there are plenty of you young people falling all over yourselves to help out the old people like me."

"That's because we like you." Chelsea risked a look over her shoulder as she reached the second floor landing. "You can't fault us for that."

Mrs. Zamudio smiled. "No, dear. I certainly can't. You know I'm only teasing. The people in this building are like family." Her smile faded. "The only family I have left now that my Maria is gone."

Damn. Chelsea cursed herself for bringing the conversation to this topic. "You're all the family I have, too, Mrs. Zamudio." Then she considered that. Maybe that wasn't necessarily true anymore. Chelsea derailed that thought. She wasn't ready to talk about it, and she didn't want to get distracted by it, either. Sleep was more important than worrying about the return of (possible) long-lost relatives. "I've been meaning to ask: were you out of town earlier this week? I didn't see you, and I was getting worried."

"I was feeling poorly, Chelsea." A gloved hand touched Chelsea's free shoulder. "It kept me inside for a few days."

"Glad it wasn't anything more serious." Chelsea eyed the third floor landing with relief. There weren't a lot of bags in the cart she carried, but that didn't mean it wasn't heavy. Her shoulder ached as she took the final few steps. "Here you go, Mrs. Zamudio." Trying not to pant too obviously, Chelsea slipped the cart off her shoulder and set it on the floor. "Can you get everything put away?" she asked, praying the answer was yes.

Mrs. Zamudio didn't say anything. With a sniff and a stern look, she seized the cart and rolled it swiftly down the hallway. "Get some rest, Chelsea. You look terrible, if I do say so myself. How are you ever going to catch a husband unless you take care of yourself?"

It was such a typical response, Chelsea had to laugh. "I'll try to do better, I promise," she called after Mrs. Zamudio. Digging her keys from her pocket, she kept a close eye on the older woman until she stepped into her apartment and the door closed with a resounding thud. "Of course, I'd prefer to catch the bad guys and leave the husband for some other woman," Chelsea finished softly to the empty hallway before entering her own apartment.

The small space smelled musty. Chelsea wrinkled her nose at the odor and vowed to air the apartment out as soon as the temperatures rose above freezing. No way was she even cracking a window tonight. With complete disinterest, she picked up the pile of mail on her kitchen counter and moved it to a new location. The bills could wait another day.

The blinking message light on the answering machine was a different story. Chelsea punched the button and slipped out of her coat as a mechanical voice announced she had three messages.

"Hey, rookie." Munch's voice filled the kitchen. "I hope you're getting this as you head to bed. You looked worse than Liv after a night on surveillance."

Shaking her head, Chelsea waited for the rest. It couldn't be about her past or any active case. Munch would have called her cell for that.

The Sergeant didn't disappoint. "Anyway, I figured you were having some fit of the vapors like most young women over the situation, and I thought I'd reassure you that I'll be back on the trail first thing in the morning. Have a good night."

A shrill beep indicated the message had ended. Chelsea barely heard it. She'd been wrong. Switching to SVU hadn't been a bad decision. She hung her coat on the back of a kitchen chair and listened for the next message as she padded to the refrigerator for a drink and something to eat.

There was no voice from the machine, though. A second shrill beep cut the air. This one had been a hang-up.

Normally, Chelsea wouldn't have even registered that information. The third beep, however, altered her usual routine. "Chelsea!" It was Anshu. Chelsea recognized his voice. "Last night…It was a mistake. I am sorry for surprising you. You must listen to me, however. Our enemies…_your_ enemies are closing in. We think they have identified you. You are no longer safe. Do not…"

A final beep ended the urgent warning.

***

Faith stared at Willow for a second. "A teacher? No wonder that cop kept looking at me. I don't look anything like a teacher, Red."

She wasn't expecting Willow and Nicole to burst into laughter.

"What?" Getting slightly irritated at the stereo giggles, Faith chomped on a piece of bacon and chewed energetically. She hadn't been trying to be funny. She didn't look like any teacher she'd ever met, and Faith's skin still tingled from the memory of the long, assessing visual examination the detective had given her.

The laughter finally died off. "S-sorry," Willow gasped. "Goddess, that felt good. You should have seen your face, Faith. It was priceless." She lost control for a second and giggled again.

Scowling, Faith started to reply. They had serious things to talk about, and this wasn't getting it done.

Nicole beat her to it, though. "Faith, Detective Munch didn't look at you because he didn't think you were a teacher. When you came into the room, your eyes were nearly as big as your head and I thought you might pass out. He probably wondered if he should call an ambulance in case you hit your head when you keeled over."

"Oh." Maybe the giggling hadn't been so bad after all. It was better than the realization that she hadn't hidden her fear as well as she'd thought. Not wanting to continue this conversation, Faith kept her eyes on her pancakes – and changed the subject. "How many Slayers are on the way, Nic? Is Tweed gonna send more, or are you thinking the two new groups is enough?"

She didn't need to look up to see the glance Willow and Nicole shared. Faith could _feel_ it. "We…He isn't sending more, Faith. At least, not until we have more information. Apparently, there's something big going on in LA and we're spread too thin right now." Nicole shifted uncomfortably. "I guess I could have argued a little harder…" she mumbled softly.

"Don't worry, Nicole. I'll simply call Angel back and tell him to take care of the problem on his own," Willow said with a straight face. It lasted less than a second and then she winked. "Or not. I'm not sure we're going to need more Slayers. If we can get Lake on board and talk to this Anshu, there might be help from that direction. I don't feel comfortable having so many of the girls in one location."

"Yeah, good point." Faith scanned the room. "This gig ain't supposed to be a group thing. Me and B broke all the rules and it was just the two of us. Now?" Pointing her fork at a table of Juniors, she went on. "It ain't natural."

"Until we have all the facts, though, I'm not sending anyone home," Willow responded. "I've been reading this document Giles sent. It may have what we need, if I can just figure it out." Tapping the screen, Willow frowned. "We know from what Nicole overheard, that the War Lord is dead. According to this, that means Lake and the other female members of the clan have to elect a new one."

She fell silent as Juanita returned with her arms filled with plates. "Here. Hope this is enough, Willow. Slayers tend to eat a lot of meat so your options are limited." Glancing at Faith, Juanita cocked an eyebrow. "Unless you want me to order more food."

"We're good, Crash." Faith tilted a head in Willow's direction. "If Red needs something else, we'll head out to grab it. I got a feeling we're gonna be checking on Lake or this Anshu guy real soon. Why don't you get the rest of the kids together, start making sure everybody's ready to go?" Despite the time table Willow had given her, there didn't appear to be a lot of actual useful information. If the computer didn't yield anything more concrete, they were going to have to find new sources of information.

"Got it, Boss." Juanita spun and trotted off.

The clink of Willow's fork was loud as it scraped her plate. "Well, _Boss_," she teased, "do you want to hear the rest of my report before you start ordering us around?"

"Funny, Red. Eat and talk. I know you said a week, but somethin' always goes wrong. I don't want to be playing catch up." Faith stretched her legs out under the table and placed her hands behind her head. "You were saying something about Lake having to pick a new War Lord. How does Giles think that's part of the prophecy?"

"I'm not sure yet," Willow mumbled around a bite of toast. She had followed Faith's edict and was chewing as she spoke. "The process looks straight forward. The women get together after the mourning period. They vote. And a new War Lord is elected."

It wasn't what Faith wanted to hear. In her experience, Willow always had – or found – the answer. "Fuck. What do we do next?" Her right leg began to bounce. "You said something about talking to Anshu…You manage to find where he was hiding?"

Willow peered intently at the eggs she was salting. "Um…"

Before Faith's _left_ leg responded to her increasing nervous energy, Nicole interrupted. "You didn't read far enough," she said softly.

"What?" Faith didn't mind Nicole taking an active part in the research. However, she needed to learn to be less vague. "Read what, Junior?"

Pointing to Willow's computer, Nicole explained. "There's a lot more to the election than just the vote. While you were resting, I went through the whole thing." She rubbed her forehead, looking both frustrated and tired. "I'm sorry. It didn't make sense when I read it the first time."

"It does now?" Willow put down her fork and moved the laptop closer to Nicole.

"Yeah, I think so." Nicole pointed to the screen. "Only…" Clearing her throat and blushing, she murmured, "…I think you got the mourning period wrong."

Willow's head snapped up. "Wrong?" Faith had to bite her lip to keep from snickering at the outrage in her voice. "What did I get wrong?"

The finger pointed at the computer shook slightly as Nicole indicated the information. "Here. It says the mourning period is only if the War Lord dies during a Council meeting. Mr. Giles checked. There isn't a Council in session right now."

"What else you got for us, Nic?" At another time, Faith might have enjoyed the chagrin plastered on Willow's face. She couldn't stop to tease now, though. If there was no delay before the big vote, they had to be ready to move _now_.

Voice still soft, Nicole said, "I didn't mention this to Mr. Giles. I…I wasn't sure I understood this right."

"Spit it out," Faith ordered. She leaned closer and put a hand on Nicole's shoulder. "You ain't steered us wrong yet, kid. Don't get all virgin in a whorehouse now."

A hand reached out and smacked Faith's shoulder at the same time Nicole's eyes got wide. "Faith! You shouldn't say things like that," Willow said. She pointed to Nicole. "See? You embarrassed her."

Nicole shook her head. "No. I'm fine. Really," she protested. Her voice was higher in pitch than before, and her words tumbled over each other. "I read the whole Constitution. The part I think we should worry about is here: numbers forty-seven and forty-eight. If there are no surviving women in the clan, the voting right passes to a sister clan. On top of that, if the _male_ heirs die off, too, then the sister clan gets to vote one of their own to the position of War Lord."

With a cold, sinking feeling, Faith listened to Nicole's next statement. "I had Sharon do some checking. The guy who died, Taharihoken? He and this Anshu were the last of the male line for their clan. As far as we could find, Chelsea is the last woman. If either of them die…"


	20. Chapter 20

Lips feeling numb, Faith mumbled, "If they both die, we're fucked." That's what the prophecy had been about. "We got to keep Anshu and Lake from getting killed by an army of vampires…or whatever," she tacked on, remembering the earlier conversation about the threat being something without fangs.

"Wow." Dropping her fork into a pile of eggs, Willow rubbed the bridge of her nose. "On a scale of one to ten, this ranks around a twenty."

"Don't get all whiny, Red." Faith rushed in before the breast-beating could begin. "Leave that for later . Right now, we need to get to Lake. She don't got a clue what's coming. Can you tell if she's working or at home? Until the new crew gets here, I don't want to send teams to both spots if we don't have to." Focus narrowing, Faith waited for Willow to respond.

She didn't have to wait for long. Willow typed on the keyboard for a minute. "At home. She signed off shift an hour ago, and there's a pending credit card receipt from a cab company. Their records show a drop off at her building."

"OK, this is what we're going to do." Faith might not have everything planned out, but that didn't mean she hesitated. They had to make sure nothing got to Lake while they pieced together the last of the prophecy. "Nic, you're with me. Lake knows you, and I'm hoping she won't shoot us the second we knock on her door." Raising her voice, she called out, "Hey, Crash! Get over here!"

As if she had been listening in, Juanita arrived at the table seconds later. "What's up, Boss? Did I get the breakfast order wrong?" Her cheery smile slipped when Faith scowled. "Uh…"

Faith held up a hand. "Breakfast is gonna wait. We're on the move. You and Chanise get teams together. Full gear – but make sure the weapons can be hidden. Time's runnin' short and we can't be bailing more Juniors out of jail. I don't know exactly where we're headed so you need to make sure your girls get some sleep. Try shifts, and make sure you got someone on the phones all the time. We might not get a lot of warning."

Juanita glanced back and forth between Faith and Willow – and wisely _didn't_ ask the questions Faith could see in her eyes. "I'm on it, Boss. Anything else?"

"We're good." For now, Faith thought. With a tight nod, Juanita turned and hurried to another table. Attention back on Willow and Nicole, Faith laid out the rest of her thoughts. "Red, get in touch with Giles. Make sure he's got the new info – and then see if you can order another group of Slayers. Looks like we were wrong about how many bodies we need. We got to protect two people now." Springing from her chair, Faith looked at Nicole. "Move, Junior. We need to arm up. In case Lake's enemies don't go poof in sunlight, I want to be prepared."

Green eyes narrowed and the muscles in Willow's face tightened.

Faith thought Willow was going to object. Not ready for an argument, Faith stood. "We'll be back," she announced. "Soon. If something comes up, call or send one of the teams out." Gripping Nicole by the arm, Faith started for the door.

"Faith!" Willow called out.

Damn. They hadn't been fast enough. Shoulders aching with tension, Faith slowly turned back to the table. "Make it snappy, Willow." The words were automatic; Faith knew Willow's penchant for rambling conversations – not to mention her distaste at being left behind.

That's why Willow's quiet, "Be careful," was such a surprise.

"Ah…" Faith floundered. Be careful? What was that all about? Where was the demand to join them on the trip? "Sure. Me and Nic'll come back in one piece." Willow's eyes hadn't left hers, and Faith took a step toward forward as if pulled. "There something you ain't been telling us?" Was there something in the prophecy or Willow's computer? "You know, like maybe this is supposed to go like B's fight with the Master?" The heated air in the conference room chilled against Faith's skin.

That got Willow out of her chair. "No! I would have told you if there were, Faith."

Two arms wrapped around Faith, and she was now one hundred percent sure that Willow was lying. She couldn't imagine any other reason for the tight hug. "Whatever." It took a Herculean effort to untangle from Willow's embrace. "Me and Nic will be careful." Faith had no intention of dying. Not now. Not with her conviction overturned and freedom stretched in front of her.

This time when she strode for the exit, Faith didn't look back.

"What's the plan?" Nicole asked quietly once they were alone on the elevator. "I don't think Detective Lake is going to believe us if we knock on the door and say, 'Watch out. There are vampires and demons after you.'"

Snorting, Faith ran that scenario over and over in her mind. "Might be worth it, Nic. You got a camera on you?" She sobered quickly, though, as the lighted numbers over the doors rose in count. "Figure we can do the rest of the planning on the drive," Faith admitted, giving Nicole a long look. "You did good work downstairs, and it might take both of us to get this right. It ain't like we do this sort of shit every day."

She'd surprised Nicole. A blush and a pair of wide eyes gave Nicole's reaction away.

Faith didn't give the younger girl time to recover. As the elevator doors slid open, she stepped smoothly out. "I've got weapons stashed in the room; pick up the pace, Junior." She unlocked the door to the room and hurried inside with Nicole right behind her.

The weapons weren't truly 'stashed.' Giles and Willow had designed a chest that looked like a regular suitcase – with a few modifications. Faith pressed her hand to the magically-keyed lock, and the lid popped open to reveal rows and layers of carefully stored stakes and knives. Wasting no time, Faith reached for her favorites.

Nicole was slower. She was still eyeing the collection when Faith stepped away and went to the closet. She wanted to be prepared for more than a vampire attack. If Lake _wasn't_ at home, as they suspected, it could be a long, cold wait in the car. "You about ready, Nic?" Faith asked after stripping a pair of hooded sweatshirts and winter coats from hangers.

Nicole patted her pockets and dropped a necklace with an ornate silver cross over her head. "Yeah. I've got so many knives strapped on we better not go through anything with a metal detector or a scanner. Not even Mr. Giles and the Council would be able to bail me out." Her grin was wry. "You might have to bust me out. Rumor has it you know all about that."

The tightening of Faith's muscles was automatic. "Yeah," she mumbled, trying to hide the reaction. Damn. Willow had taken care of the cops. How long would it take for her to stop jumping at the mention of police or prison?

Her efforts weren't enough. Nicole must have seen Faith's flinch. Smile faltering, she held out a hand. "Faith, I'm so sor…"

"Don't, Nic." Faith cut off the apology quickly. "My bad. Guess I'm not used to the whole 'not a felon' thing yet. Give me a day or two, will ya'?" She winked at Nicole in an attempt to keep the mood light and opened the door to the hallway. "Then if you want lessons in making a shiv out of a toothbrush, come talk to me."

"Sure." Still appearing uneasy, Nicole squeezed past Faith and led the way back to the elevator. Her obvious discomfort didn't mean the younger Slayer let the comment pass. "I was thinking more about tying some bed sheets together in case I had to climb out a window, though. There was a guy in Cleveland. Gunn? He said you _jumped_ out of a window, and well… I'm not so good with the heights."

Chuckling, Faith slapped Nicole on the back. "It ain't the height, Nic. It's the landing you got to worry about." The elevator doors slid open, and Faith stopped talking until they were inside and headed back down to the lobby. "Anything else you want me to teach you? How to make Tweed clean his glasses so hard the lenses break?" she teased.

"Actually…" Nicole yanked her coat closed as the elevator stopped on the ground floor. "Could you just answer a question instead?"

From the way Nicole avoided her gaze, Faith wondered what she had in mind. Nicole had done an excellent job keeping the other Juniors in line and helping with the research. This must be serious. "You can ask," she allowed. No matter how much a part of the team Nicole had become, there were a few topics Faith had no intention of ever discussing. She carefully refrained from making any promises in that regard.

"When are you going to get your head out of your ass?" Nicole asked.

***

Chelsea punched the rewind button on the machine and listened to the message a second time. Even prepared for the information, the raw urgency in Anshu's recorded voice shook her. "What the _hell_ is going on?" When the message ended again, she picked up the phone and started to call Munch.

Three numbers in, though, she stopped. Despite the adrenaline jangling her nerves, Chelsea ruefully acknowledged that she was in no shape to go charging back to the station house. She replaced the phone and reached for her gun, instead. If Anshu wasn't completely crazy and someone _was_ planning on attacking her… Well, he or she had better be prepared for a rain of bullets.

The warning did convince Chelsea to triple check every lock in the apartment on her way to bed. Battened down tight, she shucked her clothes and placed her weapon on the nightstand and set the alarm clock for mid-morning. The sheets felt cool and comforting against her skin as she closed her eyes. Just a little sleep. That's all she needed…

Unfortunately, every tiny sound or creak from the old building and her neighbors negated both exhaustion and the imaginary perps Chelsea counted. Growling, she tossed and turned and taunted herself with how much sleep she could _still_ get…if only she fell asleep right now.

Her body responded to the internal countdown. The noises and lingering anxiety faded away and Chelsea melted into the mattress.

Minutes or hours later, Chelsea shot upright in the tangle of sheets and blankets. Heart pounding in time with the rapping on her front door, she reached blindly for her gun. She struggled up and out of bed with the heavy weapon in hand. "Hang on, damn it! I'm coming!" The safety clicked off, and Chelsea's finger rested against the side of the trigger guard as she crept through her apartment.

The living room was bright and cheery with morning sunlight, and Chelsea squinted as she moved past the couch. She couldn't hear anything over the knocking. How many people were outside? "Who is it?" Maybe it was only Mrs. Zamudio needing the help with her groceries she'd turned down.

The loud banging stopped as abruptly as it had started, but no one responded to her query.

"God _damn_ it!" Chelsea had had enough. Still on edge and alert, she was nonetheless angry at the situation. Reaching the door, she hesitated with her free hand on the latch for the deadbolt. "I'm only going to ask one more time." It wasn't an empty threat. If no one answered, they were going to find themselves staring down the barrel of her gun.

Seconds ticked by in silence.

Nearly growling, Chelsea slipped to the left of the doorframe. The lock clicked open and she turned the handle in one smooth move. Not bothering to announce herself, Chelsea yanked the door wide and exploded into the hallway, leading with her gun.


	21. Chapter 21

Her move surprised the man in the hallway. He stepped back, hands automatically lifting over his head. Then his eyes widened and zeroed in on Chelsea's naked form…and the gun in her hand.

She was too wired to care about the visual examination. "Who are you and what the fuck do you want?"

"I…ah…" Appearing to shake himself back to awareness, the man finally uttered, "I'm Gary, the new super. I was doing a check with the tenants to see if you had any repairs you needed done? There should have been a notice in your mail." His hands hadn't dropped.

The mail. Feeling her head pound, Chelsea lowered her gun and straightened. "I haven't had time to check the mail, Gary." Trying to sound like she hadn't been seconds away from shooting him, Chelsea backed toward her apartment. "Nothing that needs fixing, though. I'll give you a call if that changes."

Gary slowly lowered his hands. "Sure. You do that." He continued to watch Chelsea closely. "You got a license for that thing?" A jerk of his head indicated her gun. "I mean, I know people want to feel safe, but isn't that against the law?"

Chelsea resisted the urge to turn the gun on herself at the question. "No, Gary. It's not illegal – if you have a license, or if you're a cop. My badge is inside." She waited for the news to sink in. "Sorry for the less than friendly welcome; I've had a rough few days." Stepping back inside, Chelsea began to close the door. "The next time you want to check on things, call. I check my messages before the mail."

The door closed with a loud thud, and Chelsea sagged against the cool surface. She had to get a grip. It might not be illegal for her to carry a weapon; that didn't mean she got a free pass to wave it around indiscriminately. She was letting the situation with Anshu really affect her. Pushing away from her resting place, Chelsea clicked on the safety and padded back to her bedroom. She paused inside the doorway to retrieve and don a long t-shirt – just in case the new super decided to make a return trip – and climbed back into bed. There were a couple of hours left until the alarm would go off, and she planned to take advantage of those.

***

"Huh?" Faith stared in open-mouthed shock at Nicole as she stumbled out of the elevator.

Lowering her voice in deference to the people milling around the lobby, Nicole said, "You heard me, Faith. How can you be so clueless? I mean, you must be the only one who doesn't know."

The words stung. Faith ground her teeth and stuffed her hands in the pockets of her coat. "I don't know what you're talking about, Junior. Since I'm so fucking clueless, why don't you fill me in?" Had she missed something with the prophecy? As she stalked toward the exit, Faith mentally tried to go over everything she knew.

Nicole let her stew until they were in the car and pulling into traffic. The extra time Nicole had given her to ponder the situation hadn't given Faith any answers. "You're great to work with, Faith," Nicole finally told her. The seemingly unrelated comment was soft. "You don't treat any of us like we're too stupid to get the job done and you don't just shove us out the door with a stake and a cheery 'see you in the morning.'"

Years of experience with Willow let Faith know there was a large 'but' coming. Sure enough, as she stopped the car at a red light…

"But I don't understand how you can't see it." Nicole turned in the seat as much as her seatbelt would allow and watched Faith for a reaction.

The only one Faith could give her was confusion. "Nic, I'm glad you and the Juniors don't feel left out." It was the one part of the conversation she'd managed to follow completely. "Me and B didn't have the same chance, ya' know? It was all about hitting the cemeteries or the warehouses and killing anything that moved. Not much in the way of learning or anything. Well," she tacked on with a grin, "Giles lectured a lot. Kind of like Willow…only less with the babble and more with the impatient sighs."

Her words drew an unexpected response from Nicole. "See? That's it!" the younger girl declared, finger pointing in Faith's direction.

See? See what? Faith glanced around the car and even examined the busy sidewalk as they drove along. "What's it, Junior?" Her irritation was back – and it was growing. "I ain't good at guessing games. Spill or let it drop," Faith growled.

"Willow." Nicole made the name sound like a grand announcement.

The car jerked as Faith hit the brake in surprise. "Red what? She isn't hiding in the back seat or something?" Ignoring the angry sounds of honking behind her, Faith craned her neck to peer over the seat.

"No, Faith. Willow didn't sneak out of the hotel." Was that a hint of laughter in Nicole's voice? Faith scowled and resumed driving as Nicole continued. "I was talking about the way Willow feels about you. Haven't you noticed that she watches you all the time? That she seems to care how you feel and that you're safe?"

"Sure, I have." Faith dodged a slower-moving car and accelerated for half a block until the traffic ground to a halt again. Her hands clenched around the steering wheel. God, she missed Sunnydale. They'd never had to fight this kind of congestion on the way to saving the world.

Her attention was dragged away from the stationary line of vehicles, when Nicole asked, "And?"

"And what?" Some of Faith's vexation with their slow pace crept out and her voice rose. "If you've got something to say, Nic, spit it out. I may not like what you got to say, but I'm gonna listen." She didn't have much choice since the only alternative was to get out of the car – although, that didn't sound like a bad idea at the moment. Faith knew she would be at Lake's door a lot sooner if she used a little Slayer foot speed.

Nicole's sigh filled the car. "You really don't have a clue. I didn't think that was possible… I mean, from the way some of the original Scoobies talk, you're some kind of man-eating woman with more notches on your bedpost than Don Juan."

Faith had reached her limit. Patience was one thing. This was another entirely. "Nic. Spit. It. Out. _Now!_"

"Willow's in love with you, Faith," Nicole divulged in a rush.

It was so unexpected that Faith didn't even laugh. At first. Then the chuckles started. Before long, her head was bowed until it nearly rested on the steering wheel as Faith roared in amusement. Willow – in love with her. When she finally caught her breath, she forced out, "No way, Junior. Me and Red, we get along now. _Maybe_ we're friends." She broke off for a second as traffic moved sluggishly forward. "Maybe not. We got a lot of history to get past, though."

For an instant, as she talked, Faith remembered the feel of Willow's arms around her at the hotel, the look in her eyes as they'd discussed the paperwork, and Faith's lips turned up in a soft smile before she shook off the memory.

"Sorry, I must have gotten the signals wrong," Nicole said softly. She cleared her throat. "So you don't think there's any chance it might happen, though? You don't find Willow attractive?"

Faith's smile soured. "Ain't what I think that's important, Nic." Willow would have to be crazy to get anywhere near her. "All that baggage, remember? I did a lot of things to Willow. You can't just shrug that off." Peeling one hand off the wheel, she reached across the car and poked Nicole's shoulder. "Stop trying to play matchmaker, kid. We got more important things to worry about right now."

"Yeah, I'll do that." Nicole slumped against the passenger door and grimaced. "Like I have a lot of experience in relationships, anyway."

That sounded like a long talk waiting to happen. Faith glanced sideways at Nicole and considered her options. They didn't really have time for a heart to heart here. Despite the packed streets, they were closing in on Lake's apartment. "Tell you what, Nic. Soon as we get Lake someplace safe, we'll head for someplace private, grab some food, and you can tell me all about it. The Scoobs weren't wrong. I got _lots_ of practice, and I'd be willing to share the wealth." Hoping that would be enough, Faith let her voice go brisk and back to business. "Right now, though, we gotta finish that plan I was talking about earlier. I think we're only a few blocks from Lake's place now."

***

At least, Chelsea thought, she was awake when the knocking started this time. Continuing to towel her hair dry, she picked up her gun and padded across her living room for the second time that morning. "Yeah? Who is it?" If it was Gary…

"Uh, Detective Lake? It's Nicole," a young, female voice announced from the hallway. "You and Detective Munch arrested me last night. I need to talk to you."

The kid outside the station? Chelsea tossed the towel onto the couch and reached for the deadbolt – and then stopped. How had a sixteen year-old girl found her (at her home) in New York? "I'm off duty," she stalled, thinking rapidly. "Why don't you call me at the station later today?" The safety clicked off on her weapon, and Chelsea slowly backpedaled away from the door. _This_ warranted a call to Munch. And Olivia. It was time to bring her partner in on the situation.

Nicole didn't answer for a second. "Look. I know this isn't the best way to do this," she finally said. "Can you at least open the door? I have some information about…well, about some people I think are trying to kill you."

Chelsea had no intention of opening the door. None. She retrieved her cell phone from the kitchen counter.

It went right back down on the counter when the handle on her front door wiggled.

"Nicole…" Chelsea warned. "Go away. I'm not letting you in. Either stop by the station or call and talk to Detective Munch. He was the lead officer last night, and I'm sure he'd be happy to hear what you have to say." Her hands were slick against the handgrip as Chelsea braced her legs and raised her gun, sighting on the door. Tense and primed for action, Chelsea waited for Nicole's response.

It came…from a completely unexpected direction. "We can't do that, Detective."

The new voice came from behind Chelsea. She whipped around, finger dropping onto the trigger. There was no chance, however, to do anything more. The woman in Chelsea's apartment moved with unbelievable speed. One hand reached out and gripped Chelsea's right wrist, and it went numb. Despite her best intentions, Chelsea couldn't maintain her hold on the gun. It slipped from her uncooperative fingers – right into the woman's free hand.

"We ain't got time to play nice, Lake." The safety clicking back on was loud in the apartment. "I'm Faith, a friend of Nicole's. You need to sit down and listen to what we got to tell you." A finger pointed to the door. "After you let the kid in, though. I don't want her out in the hall while we talk."

Chelsea wasn't giving up that easily. Pretending to take a step toward the door, she hoped to put Faith off guard. One step. Two…Planting her right foot on the floor, Chelsea lashed backward with her left.

The kick never landed. Instead, Chelsea felt her ankle gripped tightly and held in position mere inches from Faith's stomach. "You done or we gonna throw down some more before you get the idea I can kick your ass anytime I want?" Her smirk set Chelsea's teeth on edge.

"Let me go," Chelsea gritted between her teeth. Her heart pounded. Were Faith and Nicole the people Anshu had warned her about? It was hard to think; her instincts were to run or fight, not talk or reason.

"Sure, Chief. Just make sure you let Nic inside before one of your neighbors gets suspicious and calls the cops. None of us need that right now." The hand holding Chelsea's ankle released, and Faith stepped back slightly.

With a tight nod, Chelsea turned and headed for the door. Her skin prickled. She could _feel_ Faith watching her as she reached out, unlocked the deadbolt, and opened the door.


	22. Chapter 22

Nicole slipped past Chelsea and into the apartment. "Hey, it worked. I didn't think you'd be able to get in. Or get her to let _me_ in."

She was obviously addressing Faith. Hoping that meant Nicole's attention wasn't on _her_, Chelsea slid one foot toward the hallway. If she could only get out of the apartment…

Displaying the same frightening speed as Faith, Nicole turned and smoothly pulled the door out of Chelsea's hand. It closed with a bang. "I guess the second part of the plan didn't work so well." Regarding Chelsea soberly, Nicole commented, "I wasn't lying when I said we had information, Detective. Faith and I aren't the threat, but there is one. And it's serious."

This wasn't happening. Slowly straightening, Chelsea met Nicole's gaze. "I'm listening." What choice did she have? She was a prisoner in her own apartment.

"Yeah, you're listening, Chief." Faith grinned, a pair of dimples popping out and making her look far younger than Chelsea had originally estimated. "Part of you may be listenin', but most of you's waiting for a chance to take me out and run. Think I been in your shoes a time or two. Sit down." She pointed to Chelsea's couch. "We really ain't here to do anything but talk."

As if to convince Chelsea of her sincerity, Faith walked into the kitchen and dragged out a chair. She placed it near the end of the sofa and straddled it backwards, muscled arms resting across the top.

Feeling like a puppet being moved by a master puppeteer, Chelsea paced across the room and dropped onto the couch. She met Faith's eyes. "Tell me what you know." And make it convincing. Right now, she didn't know who to trust. "Who are you? And…you were really staking out the House, weren't you?" The last question was directed at Nicole.

She looked at Faith before answering.

"Go ahead, kid. Lake's gonna know soon enough." Faith seemed to be the only one not feeling the stress of the situation. Her chin dropped onto her crossed arms as she waited for Nicole to answer.

"Yes, I was." Nicole bit her lip and rocked on her heels. "I'm… well…" Her eyes flickered to Faith again and then back to Chelsea.

Not willing to help Nicole out, Chelsea scowled. "You're what? Here to kill me? You sure as hell aren't a pro."

That stung. Nicole's head came up and she flushed.

"Back off, Chief." Faith rejoined the conversation. "Nic's one of the best at what we do. You just ain't our usual kind of job."

Chelsea never looked away from Nicole. She was the weak link. _She_ was the key to getting out of the apartment alive. "And what _is_ that, exactly? Your job?" Chelsea pushed. Nicole was off balance, still blushing and looking uncertainly between her and Faith.

"See? That's the problem," Faith said with a sigh. "Normally, me and Nic are like cops. Like you.."

Nicole's head snapped around, and, if the situation hadn't been so grim, Chelsea might have laughed at the stunned look the younger girl gave Faith.

"You have a badge? What agency?" Chelsea asked the question; although, she knew neither of the other two women were law enforcement. In fact, she was willing to bet Faith had more experience with _breaking_ the law than upholding it. "If you're on the Job, why didn't you say that at the station?"

"'Cause they don't give out guns and badges where we come from." Faith raised her head and shrugged. "And the benefits is pretty shitty, too. We're Slayers, Lake."

She paused and waited, as if trying to determine if Chelsea was might actually know what that meant. "Slayers?" Chelsea parroted. Dear God. Cragen had been right. "You mean you're hitmen?" Muscles tightening further, she watched Faith and Nicole closer. She hadn't tangled with any of the Families; at least, none that she knew. Why would they send anyone after her?

Chelsea's frantic thoughts stopped abruptly when Faith chuckled. "Kind of." She stood in one fluid motion and appeared to search the apartment for something. "We don't kill people, though."

Her voice wavered slightly. Even busy planning her escape, Chelsea recognized the lie. Wanting to push _both_ of her captors off guard, she seized on that. "Right. You expect me to believe that? I know your type." She prayed her growing fear didn't show and raked Faith's body with her eyes. "I don't see any prison ink, but you've been there."

"Yeah, I have." Faith faced Chelsea fully, and she wasn't so calm now. The angles in her face tightened and her fists clenched around her belt. "I ain't your normal Slayer, though. Guess you could call me the bad seed and all. Slayers don't kill humans. It's in the handbook, Chief." Lips twisting in a poor attempt at a smile, she murmured, "Problem was, I never got the fucking book to read."

Chelsea didn't understand. None of this made any sense. Slayers didn't kill humans? What did they kill? And… a handbook? She flexed her fingers and rocked on her heels to loosen the ache in her quads and calves. The seconds ticked by in time with the faint click of the hands on the kitchen clock.

"Faith…" Nicole's voice was soft, as if she didn't want to break the strained silence.

It was enough, though. Faith's eyes flickered away from Chelsea's. "I know. We ain't got time for this, kid. Next time we make a plan, I'm leaving the details to you." Her voice was still tight, but Chelsea noticed that Faith's hands had dropped back to her sides.

That was a good sign. Maybe Chelsea could use Faith's relaxed state. Keeping her eyes on both of the other women, she edged to her left to clear a path toward Faith. She'd take out the bigger threat first and then go after Nicole.

That idea went out the window the second Faith retrieved the gun she'd set on the couch table.

"I'm sorry, Lake. I wanted to do this different, you know?" When Faith turned, the gun was in her left hand. "I just never thought it'd be so hard to explain who we are and what's goin' on."

Chelsea's muscles quivered as she watched the weapon in Faith's hand. This was it. She may not have understood the reason behind Faith's presence, but she was very clear on the outcome. Dropping into a crouch, Chelsea vowed to go down fighting. No way was she going to simply stand there and let Faith shoot her.

"Me and Nic were sent here to protect you, Chief." Faith continued to talk as she moved closer.

Her words barely penetrated Chelsea's consciousness. She was focused on preparing for one last attempt at freedom.

Raising the gun, Faith released the clip, catching it in her right hand. "Something big's after you, and you ain't got a clue. I was hoping to explain all of it."

There was only the bullet in the chamber left. Those were good odds. Chelsea took a slow, deep breath and waited. One more step would put Faith within range. She watched Faith push the slide back and engage the catch; the final shell popped out of the ejection port. Going up on her toes, Chelsea gathered herself.

"I'm gonna apologize now, Chief. I don't know jack about guns, but I'm betting this ain't good for them." Before Chelsea had a change to dive at Faith, the other girl held out the gun and squeezed it between her hands.

It was so unexpected that Chelsea stumbled slightly as she lurched forward. Then she got a good look at the results of Faith's actions and had to grab onto the back of the recliner.

The barrel of her handgun had flattened under Faith's grip – except where the metal had melded around each of Faith's fingers.

"What the…" Forgetting all about escape, Chelsea could only stare at the mangled weapon. "How did you do that?" She reached out with numb hands as Faith gently dropped what was left of the gun in them. Its familiar weight in her hand belied any attempts to dismiss Faith's actions as an hallucination.

"Like I told you. Me and Nic are Slayers. If I had a thing for tweed, there's a real long story to go with that little demo." Faith was watching her closely. "I'm going to keep it short; we fight evil. Demons, vampires. Even Hell gods…"

Demons and vampires. Chelsea shook her head. This had to be a dream. She was still in bed, sleeping.

"Hey!" Faith snapped her fingers suddenly, shocking Chelsea out of her inner panic attack. "Don't faint or nothing. We're runnin' out of time."

***

Lake didn't look good. Despite her darker skin tone, she was pale and her eyes were glued to the mangled metal mess in her hand. Maybe using Slayer strength on the gun hadn't been such a good idea. Faith heaved a mental sigh. She should have let Willow come with them. At least her babble got the main points across without scaring people to death. "Take a seat, Chief. I'm gonna turn the meeting over to Nic. I'm more the muscle than the brains. She can explain what's going on."

She'd surprised Nicole again. Faith caught a wide-eyed look as she slowly resumed her seat on the kitchen chair.

Chelsea hadn't moved much. She'd angled herself so that she could see both of them; however, she still stood uneasily in the middle of the room. Her head rose slightly, though, when Nicole said, "Detective Lake? You really need to sit down. This is…well, it's going to sound like Faith and I are crazy." She smiled slightly and took a seat herself. "I promise, only Faith needs mental help."

Narrowing her eyes, Faith gave Nicole a long look and the smirked. The kid had talent – even if it _was_ at her expense.

Chelsea finally moved – albeit stiffly. She avoided the couch and dropped into the recliner, the gun still clutched in both hands. "I haven't even heard the story, and I'm absolutely certain I need to check myself into Bellevue." Her eyes flickered back and forth between Faith and Nicole. "Is this about my family?"

"You know about them?" Nicole asked the question before Faith could. "We didn't think you knew…" Her words faltered for a second.

"I know they left me with ACS and that some guy named Anshu thinks it was to protect me." Chelsea was coming back to life. Her voice was more animated and she leaned forward slightly in the chair as she continued. "I've been followed the last few days, and not just by you."

This was more serious than they'd thought. "Followed? Where? When?" Faith demanded.

"Yesterday morning. Two guys in a stolen car." She turned and glared. "Some of your crew?"

"No, Detective," Nicole said smoothly. "After you caught me outside the station, we had to regroup. Like Faith said, this kind of job is new for us. We normally go after the demons; protecting someone, especially during the day, isn't something we're used to doing." She raised a hand when Chelsea started to interrupt. "How about I fill in some more details and then you can ask all the questions you want? After spending an hour with Detective Munch, I'm sure you're better at interrogating than listening."


	23. Chapter 23

"Don't be too hard on the Sarge. He's one of the best – even if he is a bit impatient and convinced he knows everything," Chelsea said, the protest sounding automatic and casual.

Good. Maybe the big freak out was over and they could get down to business. Faith settled back in her chair and watched as Nicole smiled and then responsed. "He reminds me of Mr. Giles. You might get to meet him, Detective. Well, talk to him anyway. He's in England, and I don't think he comes to the States much anymore."

As Nicole talked and Chelsea stopped glancing toward the door, Faith resisted the urge to stretch out the growing tension in her shoulders and neck. This might be the best way to explain the situation to Chelsea, but it took time. Experience told Faith that time was their biggest enemy right now. She didn't say anything, though. This was Nicole's show, and she was doing a far better job at getting Chelsea's attention than the strong arm tactics they'd tried before.

"Faith showed you one of the things you need to know about Slayers. Our strength. We're a little faster and stronger than most people. It helps us fight demons." Nicole recapped the information quickly and before moving on. "Slayers have been around for centuries. We were created to balance out all the evil."

"That's why Faith said your current job isn't normal." Chelsea seemed to be putting the pieces together quickly. "People don't usually see you working."

Deciding to interject for a second, Faith said, "You got it, Chief. I ain't worked a 'day job' since getting Called. I spend most of my time in cemeteries and old warehouses. Vamps don't do sunlight – it makes them kinda flame-y, if you know what I mean." She smirked and winked. "Not that that's a bad thing."

Chelsea's lips twitched slightly. She grew more serious almost immediately, however. "Why protect me? It doesn't fit with anything you've told me."

Faith sighed and looked at Nicole. "Tell ya' what, Chief. Nic can give you the lowdown on that - the _short_ version – while you grab some gear. I'm thinking we should get the fuck out of here before whoever's watching you decides to do somethin' more dangerous."

Nicole nodded. "She's right, Detective. We think the bad guys are about to make their move. That's why we decided to talk to you directly."

***

Slowly pushing out of the chair, Chelsea took one more look at the door. Neither Faith nor Nicole was on guard any longer. She could make a break for freedom right now…

Chelsea's police training kicked in before she could take a single step. She'd seen the signs that something was wrong for days: the weird McLaren case, the tail when she and Liv had been in Canarsie, her past. "Go where? A hotel? A safe house?" She didn't disagree with leaving, not if there really were people after her. "I can't just disappear. I have a job. And friends." Looking at Faith, Chelsea stressed that point. "Friends who are cops. They won't shrug and think I decided to take an unannounced vacation."

That earned her a scowl and a tight nod. "You keep makin' this tough, Chief," Faith complained. Then she waved a hand at Chelsea. "Get the gear. For right now, we won't fuck with your job or nothing. If it's vamps after you, they can't do anything during the day. I'll get Red and the Tweeds on your human 'friends' as soon as we get you someplace safer."

Relieved that she wouldn't have to abandon her new squad, Chelsea took a step away from the living room. "A couple days' worth of stuff or are we talking a long-term relocation?" How long was she supposed to sit back and let Faith and Nicole play bodyguards?

"There's a deadline, Chief, if we got the timeline figured out right. You're gonna have a bulls' eye on your head for maybe a couple of weeks," Faith responded without hesitating. Chelsea watched her hop off the chair and pace to the window. "Don't empty the closet, OK?"

Chelsea understood only part of the comment – the deadline. "I think I can manage to pack light." The feeling of unreality had returned. Chelsea turned toward the hallway and plodded to the bedroom. If she hadn't felt Nicole right behind her, she might have been able to convince herself this was all a very detailed dream. To keep her mind in the here and now, Chelsea asked, "What's the rest of the story, Nicole?"

Although Chelsea wasn't sure she wanted to _hear_ the rest, it was the best course of action. She needed to be prepared for…whatever was going to happen.

"Well, you wanted to know why Faith and I are here. Um…watching you." Nicole suddenly sounded her age, some of her previous confidence slipping. "Mr. Giles and Willow found a prophecy in an old scroll in the Council's library."

"A prophecy?" Chelsea started laughing as she entered her bedroom. "Like Nostradamus? Is there going to be a big earthquake?" This just kept getting more and more surreal. Maybe this _was_ only a dream.

There was a stilted silence behind her.

Chelsea slid the closet's pocket door open and then peered over her shoulder. Nicole had both of her hands stuffed in the pockets of her jeans and she scowled in a very good imitation of Faith. "Look, you and Faith come in here with some crazy story about vampires and demons and teenaged assassins. What do you expect from me?" she asked in frustration.

"Nothing, Detective." For the first time since their original meeting, Nicole appeared to be more than a simple teenager. Her suddenly shadowed eyes met Chelsea's steadily. "If we could have avoided telling you this story, we would have. Slayers usually work alone." A small, bitter smile twisted her lips. "Until a few months ago, we were sequestered as soon as were Called. Pulled away from family and friends while most of us were still kids and sent out to save the world. All of that without 'normal' people having a clue we were even there, dying after only a few months on the job. Luckily, that's changing, and we're all learning to live with the differences. One of them, recently, is protecting you."

Nicole didn't sound very happy about the change in her job description. Automatically pulling clothes off of hangers, Chelsea mulled over what she'd been told. It was what she'd been waiting for. Had asked for. The truth. Now that it was here, though, she felt her tension grow. Did she want to hear what Nicole had to tell her?

The short pause seemed to have helped Nicole calm down. The hard edge was missing from her voice when she continued. "I wasn't in all the initial planning meetings after the prophecy was found. I don't know everything Willow and Mr. Giles discovered. I _do_ know that the prophecy names you, Anshu, and Faith, though."

"Wait!" Chelsea spun away from the closet, arms full of shirts and pants. "Anshu's part of this? How?" She wasn't ready to confront Faith's involvement. Anshu claimed to be from her family. Were they at risk, too?

Confirming her suspicions, Nicole said, "Whatever is after you – vampires, we think – is after him, too. Your family…" Breaking off, Nicole seemed to search for the right words. "Your birth family was highly placed in one of the local Mohawk tribes. From what we've been able to find, you are the last descendant of Taharihoken, some kind of War Lord. According to tradition, you have to be there to elect a new War Lord – or control of the title goes to another tribe."

It was like listening to the soundtrack of a movie. Chelsea heard Nicole's words, but they didn't make sense. "War Lord?" Nicole had to be joking. "This is the 21st century. I know there have been movements to get the government to acknowledge the shit they pulled on the local Native American tribes and to reclaim their land, but that title would be empty. No one gives a crap about that anymore."

Nicole's slightly tilted head and raised eyebrow made Chelsea wonder just what, in reality, a Slayer was. That expression was better suited on Munch than on someone who looked no older than fifteen. "According to our findings, someone does, Detective. And that someone is willing to go to any lengths to ensure you aren't able to make your selection."

Unable to think of a response, Chelsea busied herself with shoving the clothes in her arms into a duffel bag. Nicole's words repeated in her mind. She was the last of her family. From orphan to abandoned baby back to orphan in the span of a day. The tiny spark of hope and longing that Chelsea had nurtured deep inside about meeting the people who had given her to Wilson Grant flickered and went cold. Now, thanks to an unknown enemy, that would never happen. She couldn't even begin to contemplate the rest of the information Nicole had given her. It didn't seem real.

As if sensing Chelsea's internal struggle, Nicole stopped talking and took a few steps away. "I promise we'll keep you safe, though."

Nicole sounded very sure of that. Despite her unease at needing someone as young as Nicole to act as a bodyguard, Chelsea unbent enough to smile. "Who's going to keep me safe from Faith? I thought for a minute she might toss me out the window… Is that why the prophecy mentions her?" she managed to tease as she finished packing up her gear – including her backup weapon, which she shoved into its holster.

Nicole didn't laugh; although, her lips twitched. "Faith only acts…" She stopped abruptly and pressed her lips together for a second. "Faith isn't a threat, Detective. Not to you. If those vamps try anything, though, you should sit back and watch. She's the best at what we do."

Filing that information away, Chelsea zipped the duffel closed and took a last look at her room. Nothing else caught her eye. "I'm ready, Nicole," she announced as she buckled the holster into place around her left shoulder.

"You won't need that." Nicole pointed at Chelsea's gun.

One hand going automatically to the butt of her weapon, Chelsea asked, "Why not? Do you have something better?" Her eyes narrowed and she gripped the handle tightly. The irony of the situation wasn't lost on her as she continued. "New York has some pretty strict gun control laws. Do you have the right permits?"

That got a giggle from Nicole. "We might be a little more high-tech than we were a few months ago, Detective. That doesn't mean Slayers carry guns. We're more Old School." Pulling up the sleeve of her shirt, Nicole showed off the wrist sheath and dagger strapped to her arm. "You can't kill a vamp with a bullet. You have to stake them through the heart or cut their heads off."

"Do they turn into bats, too?" Chelsea asked – only partially joking this time. "Am I going to see Dracula flying past the Statue of Liberty?"

***

Faith stood in the hallway, listening to Nicole and Lake talk. She'd made the right decision when she'd told Nicole to do the explanations. The kid had provided enough detail to get her point across without hemorrhaging at the mouth the way Willow would have. When she heard Lake's final question, she grinned. This was going to be fun. "Nah, Chief." Moving to the bedroom door and peering inside, Faith gave the detective the bad news. "He's dead. B staked him a couple of years ago. And, far as I know, he was the only vamp that did the bat thing. Most of 'em come out of the grave with nothing more freak worthy than lame clothes."

She hadn't anticipated Lake's reaction. Going still and pale, Lake parroted her comment. "Out of the ground? Do you mean they crawl out of their graves?"

Sharing a look with Nicole, Faith said, "Yeah. That's how it works. They get Turned by a vamp and gotta spend a night underground. Well, if they get buried, anyway. That's how we," Faith pointed to herself and Nicole, "find 'em. We hunt through cemeteries for fresh graves. Once the new Fang Brigade digs out, we stake 'em on the spot."

Lake raised a hand that appeared to shake slightly and rubbed her eyes. "So vamps are like Slayers. They're stronger than regular humans."

Barely refraining from uttering the "Duh," that sprang to her lips, Faith worked on being polite. They'd thrown a lot of information at Lake in the last hour. "Right. You gotta remember that once someone's Turned, they ain't human. They can _look_ human, but they're only hiding the demon. It's the demon that's got the super strength."

Lake's haunted eyes met Faith's. "So it wouldn't be hard for them to tear open a sealed coffin and dig through six feet of dirt?"

"They do it all the time." Turning back to the hallway, Faith hoped Lake and Nicole would follow her to the living room. It was time to get the show on the road. "It can't be too hard, though. B dug her way out when Red brought her back from the dead."


	24. Chapter 24

"Back from the dead…" Lake's voice was noticeably uneven. "Damn. Liv's never going to believe this."

Faith motioned for Nicole to precede her down the hall and watched Lake closely. Something was going on. Lake's reaction wasn't the usual "you're pulling my leg" protest they got when explaining about vampires and evil. "Liv's the butch chick you were with in the park the other night?"

If anything, her question shook Lake even more. "You were there?"

Cursing herself for starting this line of conversation, Faith shrugged and hurried after Nicole. "Me and Red were on guard duty, Chief. Didn't want you to end up dead before we had all the answers we needed." She broke off there, stopping in the middle of the living room. They had to get to the car – without being seen. Easier said than done now that they might have humans watching the building. "Nic, go out the front. Hang out by the door like you're waiting for somebody."

"OK." Nicole looked confused even as she trotted for the door. "Am I? Waiting for someone?"

"Just me and Lake. We're gonna take the back way out." Lake seemed to be in good shape. A few rickety ladders and stairs shouldn't be too hard for her. "Keep an eye out for anything outta place – people just sitting in cars, leaning in doorways…. You know the drill. Once I've got the car, we'll pick you up. Be ready to move."

The door opened and then closed softly behind Nicole.

Faith felt the weight of Lake's gaze. "Give me the bag, Chief. I'm built for hauling shit around." And it would keep the gun out of play.

"I can carry it," Lake protested immediately. She looped the duffle over her shoulder, almost daring Faith to take it. "Lead the way. Watching the two of you has me all jumpy. I'm ready to get out of here."

Eyes narrowing, Faith considered Lake's unspoken challenge. "Don't blame me if you can't cut the climb, Chief," she finally said. "You start lagging behind and I'm gonna do more than just take the bag."

A hint of a smile appeared on Lake's face. "Got it."

"Good." Faith turned away and stalked to the kitchen. "This is our way out." Pointing to the window over the sink (the same one she'd used to get into the apartment), Faith explained their egress. "Fire escape's out there. It ain't in the best shape. I'll go first and let you know when I want you to come out." She made sure to meet Lake's eyes as she stressed that last point. "Don't come out until I say."

She could see Lake gritting her teeth as she acknowledged the instructions.

Not waiting for more, Faith clambered up on the kitchen counter and slipped out the window. The rusted metal platform that comprised the fire escape landing creaked under her weight. Faith ignored the spine-chilling sound and peered at the sidewalk below.

A few people walked by, their attention focused completely on other things. No one looked up at her.

It wasn't enough. Faith had to be sure nothing waited for them. She pushed her Slayer senses to their limit. If there was anything nearby, it wasn't demon in nature. Keeping alert, though, Faith moved off the landing and onto the first set of downward steps. They were clearly not in the best shape; quite a few of the bolts anchoring the fire escape to the building's brick façade were missing and the railing didn't seem totally safe, either. "Your turn, Chief."

Lake's feet popped out of the window less than a second later. Grunts and a few muttered curses followed as Lake wiggled and twisted in an attempt to get her larger frame and her duffel bag through the small window. Finally, though, a rumpled and red-faced Lake stood at the top of the fire escape. "Anything down there?" She waved a hand at the sidewalk.

"Nothing I can see." Faith didn't go into more detail. Instead, she worked her way down to the next landing, carefully avoiding the plants, empty bottles, and other items the tenants had stored on the building's fire escape. "Don't move too fast or we'll both be hitting the bottom a lot sooner – and harder – than we want, Chief. Soon as we get this prophecy shit taken care of, you might wanna call the super and complain about the fire escape. If the fucking apartment went up in smoke, might be better to stay put than use this thing."

Lake didn't answer. Faith heard the detective suck in a deep breath as the grating continued to creak and sag as she attempted to maneuver the fire escape during her downward progress.

Following that example, Faith remained silent and started for the next set of steps. It ended abruptly several feet off the ground. She dropped to her knees and gripped the edge of the drop ladder. The world spun slowly as Faith somersaulted forward before dangling from the ladder, pulling it down and dropping the final few feet to the sidewalk.

Backing up, she checked out Lake's position. The other woman hadn't yet left the last landing.

"Toss me the gear, Chief. It ain't gonna help with the last step. It's a bitch." Faith grinned at Lake's grimace. "Come on. You got at least a few inches on me. The drop's not that bad."

The duffel bag flew at Faith with no warning; although, she caught it easily.

"Maybe. But I'm suddenly remembering Nicole's lecture on super strength. You have it. I don't." Lake took the last of the steps and slowly dropped to her knees.

***

The rusty grating dug into Chelsea's knees, even through the dense fabric of her jeans. She contemplated her options: try Faith's gymnastics display or get creative.

Creativity won.

Placing her hands flat on the previous step, Chelsea wiggled backward until she balanced precariously on the fire escape. She could just see Faith moving into the spot right below her. If this didn't work and she fell, Chelsea hoped that Slayer skills would allow Faith to keep her from hitting the pavement too hard.

One final deep breath and she pushed back another inch. Her body dropped immediately, and Chelsea's biceps burned as they bunched to keep her descent under control. She swayed from the fire escape for a second then released her hold on the metal grating.

She was proud of the fact that all Faith had to do was steady her as she landed.

"Not bad, Chief. Guess chasing bad guys is good for staying in shape." Faith's smirk set Chelsea's teeth on edge. It disappeared quickly, though, as a shrill ring emanated from Faith's pocket. "Fuck!" Digging a cell phone from her jacket, Faith flipped it open. "Nic?"

It couldn't be good news. Chelsea automatically scanned the sidewalk. There was no room to park here, and there were only a few people braving the cold. None of them stopped or seemed interested in her or Faith. She turned her attention back to Faith.

"Got it. Don't let 'em know you saw them, kid. Just stay put. We'll be at the car in a couple, and I'll be there to get you in a flash," Faith said tersely into the phone. "If they move, though, you head our way. It ain't our job to take on humans." The phone closed with a snap.

"Trouble?" Chelsea asked, even though she knew the answer.

Faith snorted. "Like fuckin' always. Nic spotted a car down the block. Two guys camped out drinking coffee in the front seat." Spinning on her heel, she trotted away from the front of the building.

Chelsea had to sprint to catch up. "What kind of car? Did she get a plate number?" If so, she could call the station and have a black and white check on things.

"You know what I know, Chief. Nic ain't playing Nancy Drew out there. She did her job." Faith's pace increased and Chelsea pushed her limits to stay close. "You want more, check out the car when we get there."

They were garnering a lot more attention as they sprinted down the sidewalk. Chelsea made sure her coat gaped open to reveal the badge clipped to her belt. The glint of the gold shield cleared a wider path and (hopefully) provided some reasoning for their precipitous flight. She was vowing to hit the gym more often by the time Faith rounded a corner two blocks away.

The headlights of a car parked along the street flashed and a discreet beep sounded. "In the back, Chief," Faith warned as Chelsea reached for the front passenger door handle. "Flat on the seat. You got friends out front, and I don't want 'em following us when we leave."

She met Chelsea's glare calmly. "I can't get the license number or a description of the car if I'm laying down," Chelsea pointed out.

"Not my problem." Opening the driver's door, Faith slid behind the wheel and started the engine. Her voice continued. "Get in on your own, or I'll toss your ass in. Your choice, Lake."

The thought of taking Faith on was tempting. Chelsea's hand tightened on the handle – then she reconsidered. An image of her flattened gun floated through her mind. With an irritated sigh, she took a step to the left and yanked the back door open. "Slow down as you pull in front of the apartment. I may have to keep my head down, but you don't. Get the number, make, and model. I'll call it in once you've given me the all-clear." She tried to keep the sarcasm from her voice – and knew from Faith's snicker that she'd failed.

"Do my best for ya', Chief." Faith waited until the back door closed and Chelsea sprawled uncomfortably across the seat before pulling away from the curb. From her position, Chelsea heard Faith shift in the seat. A few seconds later, she said, "Hey. It's me."

"What?" Chelsea rose up automatically.

Faith's right hand reached casually over the seat and smacked into the top of Chelsea's head to her down and out of sight. The car swerved to the right for an instant. "We're on the way back with Lake. Looks like we got a new problem, though. Couple of guys in a car outside her apartment," Faith announced.

Not able to see (and not willing to risk another smack), Chelsea wiggled until she didn't feel quite so much like a pretzel.

The conversation from the front continued as the car turned left and accelerated slightly. "Give me minute, Red. Fuck." Chelsea grinned maliciously at the aggrieved tone in Faith's voice. "I'm gonna get the info, I promise."

The car took another left. They were on the street in front of the main door. When the car slowed and then stopped completely, Chelsea tensed. She had to fight the need to look for the surveillance team. Faith had said she'd get the license number.

"Nic's getting in now." As Faith spoke, the front passenger door opened and closed.

"It's the red car on the right," Nicole said softly. "Only one guy inside now. The other got out and walked up the block. I think he's trying to watch Detective Lake through her windows."

Faith didn't say anything, but the car nosed back into traffic. It crept along, and a few horns behind them blared their displeasure. "Red, get ready to type. I got the car comin' up," Faith said.

That explained the slow pace.

"Red Ford Taurus. Plate CFL 5291. White guy sitting behind the wheel. Mid-thirties and balding. Nic's takin' a phone pic for you." The car sped up as Faith relayed the information. "Yeah, Red. I know. Me and Nic are being careful. I'll take the long way back in case the dude in the car is smarter than he looked."


	25. Chapter 25

Chelsea maintained her position for as long as possible – maybe another two minutes – and then sat up.

"God damn it! Get the fuck down!" Faith insisted. She turned in the seat and glared at Chelsea. "I thought we talked about this. You got guys tailin' you, and we're tryin' to keep them from knowing you gave 'em the slip."

Calmly meeting Faith's glare, Chelsea straightened her coat. "You might want to watch the road. An accident won't help get me to safety faster."

She swore she heard Faith's teeth grinding as the younger woman spun and faced the windshield again.

Checking over her shoulder, Chelsea scanned the cars behind them. No Taurus. It looked like Faith's maneuver had worked. "Nicole, did you get a look at the second man? The one who got out of the car?" In full Cop Mode, Chelsea automatically reached for the notebook and pen she kept in her jacket pocket. As she waited for Nicole to answer, she quickly jotted down the information Faith had already relayed to her own contact.

"Yeah." Head tilted to one side, Nicole scowled. "I didn't get a really good look, though. I didn't want him to know I spotted him." The pause was long enough for Chelsea to wonder if Nicole was going to provide the requested description. "Tall. Maybe six-two. And heavy."

Sensing Nicole's memory needed help, Chelsea prodded for more. "Fat or just bulky?"

"Bulky. You know…" Nicole met Chelsea's eyes. "Like a boxer who let himself go after his last match. I wouldn't have wanted to take him on even _with_ the whole Slayer package."

That wasn't good. Faith and Nicole had both seemed very sure of their fighting abilities. If Nicole thought the guy looked _that_ strong… "Anything else? You said white." Feeling more than a little uncomfortable at interrogating Nicole, Chelsea still asked, "Could you tell if the guy was from another country?" Like Italy. The Mob angle might not make sense, but Chelsea wanted to be thorough. She needed to know if she had to worry about the Masuccis, in addition to vampires, demons, and… Slayers.

The inner pep talk didn't keep her face from warming when Nicole shot her a confused look. "You mean was he from France or something?"

Chelsea nodded and wished she'd left that particular topic alone. "Yeah."

"Sorry. He looked normal. American." Nicole closed her eyes. "A normal guy in a leather jacket and jeans."

"Don't worry about it," Chelsea soothed. Then she fell back on the only excuse she could think of. "I'm a cop. We have this thing for details…" Before Faith or Nicole could comment on that, she rushed on. "Can I borrow your phone, Faith?"

"Your battery die or somethin'?" Faith turned her head to peer into the back seat. "Or did you forget to pack it?"

In answer, Chelsea dug her own phone out of her pocket. "There are too many things we don't know right now. Why those guys are following me. Who they are. Who they work for. If they've got a way to trace or listen to my calls." The hurried explanation had been instinctual. However, as she talked, Chelsea realized her points had merit. In fact, they should have come to her sooner. They would have…if Chelsea had actually believed Anshu's warnings.

He had been right. And Chelsea finally examined the limited information she had with the eyes of an experience investigator. "I'm going to call the plate number into the station. Munch is helping me out with…" It was still hard to say the words. Rotating her shoulders lightly, Chelsea forced herself to go on. "…with Anshu and whatever's happening with my family." Despite her best intentions, Chelsea's voice wavered on the final word.

Faith didn't turn around again, but Chelsea caught her stare in the rearview mirror. "Don't need to call in the old guy, Lake. We got something better."

If she hadn't been so tired and so strung out from the events of the past few days, Chelsea would have tried to respond politely. Unfortunately, real life had created a situation even her police training couldn't handle with ease. "What? Another handful of kids with super powers? Can one of them see the future? Maybe read minds?"

There was a stilted silence from the front seat.

Closing her eyes, Chelsea rubbed a hand over her face. "Give me the phone, Faith," she nearly begged. Munch, Liv… The members of her new squad were at least more familiar than Nicole and Faith. She trusted them. Cops took care of their own, and not even the promise of protection from a horde of Slayers sounded better than letting her brothers in blue do what they did best.

"Red's the best there is with the computer, Chief. She's got the information and a way to hack into the same info Munch has." Faith reached back and offered her phone. "But if ya' gotta make the call, do it. I ain't gonna fight you about it." Her eyes locked onto Chelsea's as she said intently, "Keep me and the kid out of it, though. Nothin' about vamps or demons. No prophecy. No Slayers. We got enough trouble without your cop buddies tryin' to find you and toss you in the nuthouse."

Chelsea didn't respond to the warning. She took the phone and flipped it open, punching in Munch's direct line from memory. As the first ring sounded in her ear, Chelsea stared out of the windshield and marshaled her thoughts. She needed a plan or Munch was going to…

Her search for a strategy came to an abrupt halt when Chelsea heard the dull click that heralded she'd been transferred to Munch's voicemail.

"Problems, Chief?" Faith must have noticed Chelsea's surprise over Munch's absence.

"No." Chelsea disconnected the call and then slowly began to dial a new number. "It looks like the long hours caught up with the Sarge. He's probably catching up on his beauty sleep," she murmured as the phone began to ring again.

This time, the answer was swift. "Benson," Olivia barked into Chelsea's ear.

"It's Lake." Still without a concrete plan for divulging her news, Chelsea kept her comments to the point. "I'm on the move. There was another tail outside my apartment this morning. I need you to run the plates and a couple of descriptions."

"You need backup?" There was a rustling sound through the phone's speakers before Olivia continued. "I can get some unis there and meet you at one of the safe houses across town."

Just like that, some of Chelsea's tension eased. Olivia had her back – with no questions asked. "Not yet. I gave the guys the slip and I've got…" What should she call Nicole and Faith? "Some friends have lined up a place for me to stay for a while. Can you check the plates, though? And see if Munch has anything else on Anshu or the Mohawk angle?"

"Give me what you have, rookie," Olivia ordered.

It was a relief to let her partner take charge for a moment. Chelsea relayed the information on the car and the two men. "Liv…" There was so much she wanted to say. So much that Olivia needed to know. Chelsea saw Faith stiffen in the front seat and sensed another warning on the way. "I've got a funny feeling that all of this is connected," she said softly. "Anshu, my family, McLaren. But I can't explain it. Not yet, Liv." Probably not ever.

"Chelsea?" Olivia's concern was evident in her use of Chelsea's first name.

"I'm sorry. I don't have anything more." Nothing that Olivia would believe, anyway. "Call me back at this number when you have something." Chelsea gripped the phone tighter and ended the conversation before Olivia could press for more. "Thanks, Liv."

The phone closed with a soft click, and Chelsea dropped it onto the front seat.

***

Faith watched Chelsea in the rearview mirror. She recognized the older woman's expression. She'd worn it herself at one time. Shame, confusion, and a gut level need for…something solid and safe to hold onto. Faith responded to that without thinking. "This Liv. She more than just your partner?" Smirking slightly, she turned her head enough to look at Chelsea directly and pushed. "'Cause it sounded like she wanted to come give you a hug." The smirk grew. "Or kick your ass for not lettin' her take care of you."

A tide of red rushed up Chelsea's face and she stiffened. "I guess you and all the little girls in your group don't understand the way it works, Faith. Liv's got my back. That's what _partners_ do."

"Ah, don't be like that." Mission accomplished, Faith resumed scanning the road ahead. "The Juniors got a system, right, Nic? They look out for each other. One big, happy family." Just like the Scoobies used to be, only a hell of a lot larger.

"We'd take care of you, too, Faith, if you weren't such a pain in the ass," Nicole added. Faith saw her lips turn up in a grin. "But we get tired of the posing. 'I'm Dark Faith. I eat little Slayers like you for breakfast. Grr…'"

That did it. The mood in the car shattered as Chelsea snickered. Seconds later, Nicole's giggles joined in.

Faith scowled. Damn it. She so had to work on her reputation. It was in tatters. All the time she'd spent picking up the slack from Buffy had ruined everything. No one respected – or feared - her anymore. "Wanna spend some time sparring, kid? I can show you all my mad skills."

"Nope," Nicole disagreed immediately. "Sorry, Faith. We're in the middle of another apocalypse or… whatever. My boss would kill me if I got hurt playing around in the gym before the big battle. She's a real hardass. How about a rain check?"

Ignoring Nicole's wide grin and faux innocent expression was hard. Faith pressed her lips together tightly and locked her jaw. She wasn't going to laugh. She wasn't. "I ain't waiting too long, Junior." Faith's voice shook only slightly as she issued her warning.

"You're right at the top of the priority list," Nicole assured her. "The only thing I have to do first is let Juanita take me on a driving tour of the city. As soon as I get that out of the way, I'm all yours, _Boss_."

Faith lost her battle and chuckled. "Crash ain't ever livin' the car thing down. She and B'll be driving legends together." The lighter atmosphere lasted another few minutes, and then the hotel loomed ahead. "Take a good look around, Nic. Anything on the radar?" Faith asked the question as she reached out with her own senses.

"Nothing." Nicole's assessment backed up the lack of vampire and demon activity Faith had noted. "Shouldn't there be _something_ out there, though? This vote that Detective Lake has to cast... It's soon. Like in a couple of days soon. Where are the vamps?"

It was a very good question. "Ain't got a clue, kid. Maybe Red and the research crew have something." Faith pulled up to the uniformed valet and unbuckled her seatbelt. "For now, keep your eyes open." She looked at Chelsea as the man opened her door. "And your head down," she stressed.

No one spoke as they climbed out of the car. What else was there to say? Faith's muscles burned from strain as she swept the area with her eyes. Her close examination revealed that Nicole and Chelsea were doing the same.

"Come on, Detective." Nicole broke the tense silence. "Time to meet the rest of the gang and maybe answer some of your questions." She stepped in front of Chelsea, and Faith saw the gleam of a knife hilt in her palm. The rest of the blade was barely visible under the sleeve of her jacket.

Taking up the rearguard position without argument, Faith reached into her own coat and gripped the stake nestled in the pocket.

The trip through the hotel lobby seemed to take forever. Faith had traversed the carpeted area dozens of times. This time, though, she was on duty. Conscious of every person, every possible threat. It was a relief to follow Chelsea into the conference room and hear the door close behind them.

"Faith!" Willow rushed across the room toward them.

They must have found something. Faith said, "Chief, this is Willow. She's kinda the…" Her introduction was cut short when Willow launched herself the last few steps – right into Faith's arms.


	26. Chapter 26

With a surprised grunt, Faith stumbled back a step. Her hands automatically cradled Willow's hips as she fought for balance. "What the fuck, Red?" Her mind immediately sought an explanation for the near-stranglehold Willow had on her neck. "Somebody die?" One of the girls? Giles?

Faith's hands tightened at the same time as her stomach.

"B?" No way. Faith peered at Willow intently. "Did somethin' happen to B?" As she waited tensely for an answer, Faith thought she heard giggles from the junior Slayers nearby.

She _knew_ Willow giggled. She could clearly see Willow's wide smile, too. "No, Faith!" One hand unwrapped from behind Faith's neck and gently tapped her on the back of the head. "No one got hurt – or killed."

Faith struggled to understand that. "Uh…OK," she mumbled in confusion.

"Thank you." Willow's smile changed, becoming less bright and more…

Wanting to shake her head, Faith stared at Willow's lips. When had Willow gotten so sexy? Mesmerized by the inviting curve and the light sheen of moisture on Willow's mouth, she automatically leaned in closer. "Thanks for what?" she asked absently.

Willow's head seemed to rise in anticipation; their lips were only inches apart now. "The flowers. They were beautiful."

Just like Willow, Faith thought. Beautiful. She could almost feel Willow's breath now. Then the meaning of Willow's comment finally reached her brain. The flowers! Faith's head snapped back to a safer distance. "Right." What the hell was she doing? She'd nearly kissed Willow! "You know… Kinda wanted to do a little thankin' of my own." It was hard to breathe, and Faith was hot and cold at the same time. She had to get control. Now. Before she did something stupid.

Some of the color in Willow's cheeks faded, making her freckles stand out in contrast. "Faith, why did you send me flowers?" Her voice sounded strangely choked, almost strangled.

"For the paperwork and shit." Faith wasn't going into more details with Chelsea only a few steps away. "Owe you way more than that, but I don't think I'm ever gonna be able to pay you back." How much was her life, her freedom, worth?

"Oh. That." Willow went even paler then all of the color returned at once in a brilliant wave of red. "I thought…Well, flowers…Wow. My mistake." Her hands dropped from Faith's neck and she stepped away so fast she staggered.

All the heat disappeared from around Faith. The air was suddenly frigid. Glancing around, Faith realized the drop in temperature might not have anything to do with a sudden loss of heat in the building. No. Most of the cold seemed to be emanating from the group of girls clustering protectively around Willow. She frowned, unsure of the shift in mood. What had she done?

"Detective, since Faith didn't finish the introductions," Nicole said, her voice cutting into Faith's confused perusal of the group, "let me take care of that." She pointed to Willow. "This is Willow, she's our researcher and expert in all things arcane."

Willow held out a hand to Chelsea. "Welcome aboard, Detective. I wish the ride was going to be a little less bumpy," she said, the previous tightness in her voice more pronounced. "We'll try to make sure you're buckled in safely, though."

The situation was becoming more and more like the old Scooby meetings with every minute. Faith hated the sudden out of synch sensation almost as much as she hated the impression that Nicole had stepped in to save her…from something. Old habits kicked in automatically. Faith's hands found sanctuary in her pockets and she threw her shoulders back. As she had the previous day, Faith hovered on the edge. She could see the point of no return looming under the toe of her shoe. One step. One smirk. One innuendo-laden comment, and all of her hard work would be lost.

Faith's right hand popped free of its denim resting place and rubbed at the goose bumps pimpling her skin.

She wasn't crossing that line. Repeating that vow over and over in her head, Faith watched without interference as Nicole introduced the team of Juniors in the conference room. Finally, when the fear of backsliding faded, Faith resumed her place in the conversation. "We got more Slayers gettin' ready upstairs, Chief. Three teams. The Tweed Crew's sending more, too. Should be here tonight." She looked at Willow for confirmation, stepping farther away from that invisible line in the carpet at Willow's small smile and nod.

"Giles and I did some more research while you were gone. Although the texts are pretty vague on dates and locations, I'm pretty sure Detective Lake has to be at the tribe's ancestral home to cast her vote. I diverted the new girls in that direction; they are spreading out along the way there."

Faith didn't like Chelsea's frown. Hadn't they dealt with her disbelief at the apartment? She was so focused on finding another way to convince her of the reality of the threat that she almost missed Chelsea's question. "What are they watching for? What kind of threat? Just the vampires that Nicole and Faith mentioned?"

There was an uncomfortable silence. The Juniors all appeared to be interested in the carpet or the walls. And Willow… Faith bit back a chuckle. From the bright flush and the way she bit her lip, it was clear she and Giles hadn't pinpointed the army referenced in the prophecy.

"That's kind of the problem, Chief," Faith said quietly, coming to Willow's rescue. She met Chelsea's stare calmly. "All them old books talk in riddles. So far, all we know is a big ass group of undead – could be vamps, could be zombies – is out to kill you." Giving Chelsea a grin, Faith offered her opinion. "Don't really matter. They ain't going to get close to you, Chief."

***

Chelsea felt her lips twitching in response. Faith seemed very sure of their chances. Still… She couldn't quite get past the grainy image of _Night of the Living Dead_ that was suddenly running in her head. "Zombies?"

One of the kids in the group surrounding them laughed. "Yeah." She held her arms stiffly out in front of her body. "Grr… Argh…"

More laughter sounded.

Thinking longingly of her once normal life, Chelsea rubbed a hand over her eyes. "What do we do now?" She understood the need to find a safe haven; however, Chelsea wasn't used to standing on the sidelines. Not even Faith's new scowl was going to deter her from taking an active part in her own defense. "Are we staying here or heading for St. Reginald?"

"Here, for now." Willow gestured toward a projector and screen at the far side of the room. "I've got another conference call in a few minutes. The first of the new Slayers should be in position, and I'm coordinating with her Watcher." As if sensing Chelsea's lack of understanding, Willow clarified. "Teacher, trainer." She flashed a quirky grin. "Basically the brains behind the brawn."

There were a few friendly grumbles from the crowd. "Did you just call us stupid, Red?" Faith crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes at Willow. "You might wanna think that over, 'cause you and the Chief are the only non-Slayers in the room."

"I only call it like I see it, Faith." Willow stuck her tongue out at Faith, and Chelsea barely restrained a chuckle. Those two needed to get a room and get it over with. Of course, she thought with a smirk, maybe Willow's description of Slayers wasn't that far off. From what she'd seen earlier, Chelsea was convinced Faith didn't have a clue that Willow was on the prowl.

Chelsea didn't let herself get distracted by her mirth. "Nicole said earlier that I'm not the only target. Are you putting people on Anshu, too?" Family might be a new concept in Chelsea's life, but that didn't mean she was unclear on how it was supposed to work. If she had a personal guard, he needed one as well.

Her question caught Willow off-guard. Eyes widening, Willow stared at Chelsea. "Uh…"

"Sounds like a 'no' to me," Faith interpreted. "Don't blame Red, though. We ain't real used to the protection gig."

"Get used to it." Now that the idea had occurred, Chelsea wasn't backing away from it. "If the tales were true, none of this works without me _and_ Anshu. You've got your own personal army here. Send some of them out to bring him in."

A head shake answered her directive. "No can do, Chief." Faith at least had the grace to appear sorry about that. "It ain't that we don't want to…" Grimacing, she admitted softly, "We don't know where he is. The only reason we got a clue who he is is that Nic saw him try to grab you at your place the other night."

Damn it. Chelsea ground her teeth in frustration. For all of their purported mission to protect her and to make sure the prophecy (whatever it was) didn't happen, Faith and her crew knew very little. "I'll make some calls." Being a cop had some advantages; they were good at finding people. Usually.

"You can't," Willow protested immediately.

Letting a little of her anger leak out, Chelsea glowered at the younger woman. "Why not? _You_ don't seem to be having any luck finding him. If I put in a call to the House, the Sarge can quit surfing the Internet and do something useful."

Willow turned bright red and wiggled in place. "That wasn't what I meant, Detective," she said softly. "It's a bad idea to get too many people involved in…in something like this. We can't tell them about what we do. About the supernatural." She held out a hand in entreaty. "And, as you said, cops are good at finding people – and information. That might expose us."

Chelsea wasn't entirely sure that was a bad thing, but she let that part of Willow's argument slide for the moment. Instead, she focused on the most important point. "Then, if I can't call in the squad, you need to start looking for Anshu a little harder." She met Willow's eyes. "Because if he isn't in the hotel by tonight, I'm picking up the phone."

One of the girls in the group surrounding them cleared her throat. "If you want, me and some of the other Juniors can stake out the detective's apartment. This Anshu might try to contact her again."

It wasn't clear to whom she'd addressed her statement; however, Faith was the one who answered. "Give Red some time to do her magic on the computer, Chan. It's a hell of ra lot safer than putting you and the kids on Lake's place. Look what happened the last time we tried that."

Everyone glanced at Nicole – who immediately stared at the carpet.

"Besides, Lake called in her partner on that car Nic spotted. Gonna be a lot of cops cruising by, I bet." Faith pointed at Chanise. "I ain't saying you won't end up hiding in a doorway so pick your crew and be ready to roll."

Chanise grabbed the girl next to her and trotted for the door.

"Speaking of that car…" Willow moved through the crowd of girls to the table with the projector and the computer. "I think we overreacted, ladies," she called out. "The car was registered to the NYPD. The 27th Precinct, actually. When I did a little digging, I found out that it had been checked out by two detectives: Ed Green and Cyrus Lupo. Do you know them, Detective?"


	27. Chapter 27

"No," Chelsea answered automatically. Green and Lupo? Why would cops be outside…? "Munch. It has to be."

She was only dimly aware of the looks being exchanged between Willow and Faith. "You want to fill us in, Chief? Ain't Munch the old guy I met yesterday?"

Still trying to unravel all the pieces of the puzzle, Chelsea stifled an impatient sigh. "Sergeant John Munch," she confirmed. "He's been around a long time. I'm sure he's got dozens of contacts in Manhattan. If he reached out to some friends in the Two Seven, they'd chip in." The news was both welcome – and not. Had Munch found out something he hadn't told her? Why would he put a detail on her apartment and not let her know?

"If he's that deeply involved, it's a problem." Willow frowned and bit her lip. "With you suddenly dropping off the radar, I'm betting he calls in more backup. We can't afford to be dodging the entire NYPD right now."

"They aren't the enemy!" Chelsea had reached the end of her admittedly small reservoir of patience. "Munch and Liv are trying to help – just like you." She had to leave. This was getting them nowhere, and Chelsea wanted to ask Munch how much he'd uncovered while she'd slept.

Unfortunately, the girls around her closed ranks, and Chelsea found herself completely hemmed in. Trapped. "Can't let you go, Chief," Faith announced softly. "My job's to keep you safe. Your friends may be good, but I'm better." There wasn't even a hint of a boast in her voice. Only rock solid conviction. "And if I ain't enough, the Juniors have my back."

"Me, too, Faith." Willow's smile was faint. And her eyes… Chelsea flinched back a step from the glowing cobalt irises. "Not all of us carry visible weapons, though." A chill breeze seemed to blow suddenly through the room.

It all disappeared when a shrill beep emanated from the laptop and speaker combination on a nearby table.

"That's probably the Watcher." Willow's eyes were once again green as she turned away from Chelsea and trotted to the computer. Seconds later, the image of a thin, rumpled man flickered onto the far wall, thanks to a projector hooked to the laptop. "Mr. Simmons?"

"Yes." The voice matched the impression of utter exhaustion Chelsea had gleaned from Simmons' appearance. "Ms. Rosenberg. Ms. Lehane. We are in position, approximately twenty miles from St. Reginald." His lips twisted. "Our journey has been fraught with…difficulties."

No one responded to that, but Chelsea sensed the tension in the conference room increase. Finally, Faith asked, "Vamps?"

"Indeed. At least…" Simmons broke off and looked away from the camera. "One moment."

Chelsea edged closer to Faith and Willow, needing to feel part of the conversation.

After a very long minute, Simmons' attention returned to the camera. "My apologies." A young girl joined him on the screen. "This is Amy, one of the Slayers assigned to my team. She has the details I am sure you need."

"Whatcha got for us, Junior?" Faith dropped into a chair and tossed her booted feet onto the table in front of her.

"Nothing you're going to like," Amy said grimly.

That earned a bark of laughter. "Kid, it ain't hard to figure out I don't like much. Just spit it out. I got one grumpy superwitch and a pissed off cop sitting next to me. I'm not the one you got to worry about." Faith didn't even wince when Willow's hand smacked into her shoulder. "See?"

Amy's smile made her look even younger. "Got it." She grew serious again. "I've had patrols out since we landed. There's…something here. Vamps, I think."

"You think?" Chelsea leaned forward, tired of vague answers and too little information.

Her impatience changed to discomfort when a suddenly _very_ mature Amy peered in her direction. "Yes. I think." She shrugged. "Slayer senses are off the charts. Even inside, my head is buzzing and I keep reaching for the nearest stake. We can't find anything, though. Nothing. Not one sign of a single vampire or demon."

Rapid-fire typing interrupted Amy's explanation. "Give me a second, Amy," Willow said. "I'm looking at the topographical maps of the area. Maybe there are caves or tunnels…"

"Like in Sunnydale?" Faith's boots thunked to the floor and she stood up, pacing back and forth next to the table.

"Maybe." Willow didn't look up from her computer. "Amy, Mr. Simmons, I'm emailing you what I found. There isn't much."

Simmons thawed enough to smile. "It's more than we have, Ms. Rosenberg." His eyes flickered away from the screen for a second. "In the meantime, what would you like us to do? I have six Slayers with me, and I believe more were being diverted within the next twelve hours."

"Dig in," Faith said while Chelsea grappled with what was happening around her.

***

Faith watched Simmons nod. "We need to know what we're facin'. You and the Juniors are the Research Crew." She forced herself to stand still and meet Amy's eyes. They were steady; although, Faith didn't miss the flash of apprehension in their depths. "You're gonna be stretched thin. Keep two of you with Simmons all the time, helpin' him deal with the Tweeds in England and Red's group here. Let another couple sleep. The rest…" She didn't even have to finish.

"The patrols can hit the edges of the tunnels on the map and hunt for that signature we're picking up." Amy stepped back from the screen, only stopping when Faith held up a hand.

"Don't do anything stupid, Junior. If you find anything, you bring it to Simmons. Don't try to investigate on your own. While you're looking, me and Red will figure out where we go from here." Her right leg bounced with sudden frenetic energy as Faith realized they were getting closer to the action. "Don't be surprised to see us on the doorstep in a few hours."

Simmons and Amy murmured their understanding and their images disappeared. "I don't like this." Willow leaned back in her chair and rubbed her eyes.

"No shit, Red," Faith agreed. A reluctant human target to protect. Another human to _find_. And an army of vampires waiting for them in territory she and the Juniors didn't know. "It ain't like it's a new thing, though," she reminded Willow. "How many times did you and B have all the answers going in to the big fight?"

There wasn't an answer; Faith had known that when she'd asked the question.

"How many Slayers do you have?" For the first time since the video conference started, Chelsea joined the conversation.

"Nineteen here. Six with Simmons. Six more on the way." Willow looked at Chelsea and clarified. "Thirty-one Slayers, probably two Watchers, and me." Her sudden smile raised the hairs on the back of Faith's neck. Maybe Dark Willow was lurking in the background with Dark Faith. Willow's power was almost visible in the air. "I think I count for at least a handful of Slayers – without the stakes and super fighting skills."

"Thirty-four people." Faith could hear the doubt in Chelsea's voice. "Against an army…" Shooting out of her chair, Chelsea glared around the room. "Are you out of your minds?"

Faith was only partially successful in smothering her laugh, and some of the Juniors didn't even bother to restrain themselves. "It kinda comes with the job, Chief. Relax. It's better odds than we normally got. Give Red a chance to use that brain of hers. She always comes up with a way to beat the Big Bad." Pointing at Chelsea's abandoned chair, Faith said, "Sit down. Put your feet up – it always helps me think."

For a second, Faith thought Chelsea wasn't going to listen. The detective was bow-spring tight, hands clenched and held at an almost-ready fighting position.

"Chief…" They didn't have time for a throw down. Faith held her own hands up, palms out.

Chelsea's deep breath and slow exhale filled the room. "Right. We wait for Willow." The words sounded forced between clenched teeth.

"Not just me," Willow said cheerfully, as if a fight hadn't nearly broken out. She resumed typing on her keyboard. "We're a team, and even _Slayers_ have to contribute to the planning. The days of sparring sessions during research meetings are over."

"Why are you lookin' at me, Red?" Faith didn't think anyone bought her attempt at innocence. "I'm right here, ready to help out." She grinned, dimples out, at Willow and very slowly and deliberately sat back down. "And the Juniors are stayin', too."

There were a series of grumbles and some shuffling feet.

Faith turned her head and raised an eyebrow at the suddenly discomfited group of Junior Slayers. "You heard the witch. Slayer's gotta _contribute._" One by one, the girls sat down. Getting back to business, Faith sorted through everything she remembered about the original prophecy and the conference calls with Giles and Simmons. "Red, how long do we have before the Chief has to do this vote?"

"We aren't…a hundred percent sure." Nicole answered Faith's question instead of Willow. "Our best guess is tomorrow or the day after. It's been almost two hundred years since a situation like this happened, and _that_ vote took place five days after Taharihoken died."

"Anshu showed up two days ago." Chelsea leaned intently forward. "It had to take him at least a day to make the trip and find me."

As usual, Willow seemed to be right on the money. Too bad it wasn't a good thing this time. Faith rocked back in her chair. "How many ways into this place? Red? Nic?" Anybody? "The vamps have got to know we're heading their way. I'm betting that's why Amy's senses are off the charts. They're digging in and waiting for us."

"Then we need a way to surprise them," Willow announced as if making that happen was simple.

Faith waited a beat to see if there was more to Willow's statement. There wasn't. However, she did notice how Willow stared at _her_ in anticipation. "Uh…" For the first time ever, Faith regretted stepping in to fill Buffy's shoes. Buffy has always been good at picking up where Willow left off.

"What about the tribe?" Chelsea's question didn't make sense at first. Luckily, Chelsea kept talking. "I know you think the vampires are set up and ready to cut us off. But there are two tribes involved, right? The vampires and Anshu's – and my…" The word came out strained. "…tribe. If he's here to warn me about the danger, won't our tribe be willing to help out?"

"Well," Faith hoped her flush wasn't too apparent, "I did tell ya' we ain't used to working with an audience. I hadn't thought of that." She looked at Willow, who avoided her gaze. "Looks like the Brain Trust didn't either." If Chelsea was right, though, their game plan might not be so doomed to failure. "Nic, get the kids up. If we're gonna ask the Chief's people for help, we have to get ahold of them." And that meant finding a Mohawk in Manhattan. "Red, do your magic while Nic goes upstairs. See if Anshu's been leavin' a trail."


	28. Chapter 28

"I really can't do everything, Faith." Willow cocked an eyebrow. "Thanks for the vote of confidence, though. I'll do what I can."

A little surprised at the wry admission, Faith tuned out the bustling Junior Slayers and Chelsea. "You don't have to do it all, Willow," she said softly. Buffy had always pushed that idea. Faith knew better. Willow had been right before. They _all_ had a part in this. "You need me to get one of the Juniors to help you?" Her voice dropped even more, and Faith leaned in closer. "Or do we let the Chief call in the troops? NYPD is gonna have a lot more ways to find this Anshu…"

Face lighting with a smile, Willow shook her head. "That wasn't what I meant, Faith." One hand left the keyboard, gently stroking Faith's arm for a brief instant. "I just don't want you to think I can wiggle my nose and have Anshu appear in the conference room. There isn't much here for me to even use to track him."

The hand dropped away, and Faith swallowed hard. The hotel was messing with the heat again. Sweat beaded her hairline. Wiping at it with the back of her right hand, she met Willow's eyes and made a decision. If she didn't do something right now, it would be business as usual, Willow would feel honor-bound to somehow save their asses one more time. "Chief, make the call." Faith would simply deal with the fallout from Giles and his cronies if they all made it out of the fight alive.

Not bothering to question the change in plans, Chelsea yanked her cell phone from her pocket and turned it on. Seconds later, a single ring prefaced Munch's clipped, "Special Victims."

"Munch!" Chelsea was so glad to hear his voice that she nearly shouted his name.

Out of the corner of her eye, she glimpsed several of the bustling Junior Slayers turn in her direction. Waving them off, Chelsea concentrated on regaining her composure.

"I need your help, Sarge." That was better. She sounded intense but not desperate.

The creak of Munch's chair was loud enough to carry through the phone. "You OK, rookie? Liv's been tearing Midtown apart trying to find you."

Chelsea laughed despite her continued tension. She could easily imagine Olivia, scowl firmly in place, leaning over the shoulder of a TARU tech. "No need for that," she said. "I'm at the Ramada."

A sharp breath announced Munch's intent.

"Don't come here." Chelsea cut him off. Looking up, she caught Willow's eye. "We're about to go on the move." She covered the bottom of the phone. "Where and when?" Chelsea directed the question at Willow.

"I don't…" Willow bit her lip and hesitated.

Damn it! Chelsea glared. "I need an answer or you're going to have the NYPD on your doorstep." It wasn't an idle threat, not if Olivia was already on the hunt. "Where are you and the kids heading? St. Reginald?" That's where they'd said Anshu's tribe was located.

"Yeah." Faith took over the conversational ball. She put a hand on Willow's shoulder and Chelsea saw her lightly massage the muscles. "Ain't sure how we're getting there, Chief, but tell the old man that's where we're going. Figure the drive'll take six…seven hours, even with Crash at the wheel."

Chelsea hadn't even placed the phone to her ear when Munch said, "I recognize that voice. What are you doing with Nicole's friends? Chelsea? What the hell is going on?"

As much as she needed to confide in him, Chelsea squelched the impulse to divulge the details. "Later, I promise." The room blurred and she blinked rapidly. God, she was tired. And scared. There hadn't been a single sign of a vampire or demon, yet Chelsea read the increasing tension and sense of purpose in every girl in the conference room. This was real. It was happening. And she was the target. Her emotions trembled in her voice as she continued. "Keep it in the squad, Sarge. No more friends."

A second passed. Then two. "Understood. What do you need?" Chelsea could picture Munch in his chair, pen in hand, eyes alert and intent.

"I need Anshu." The words felt strange. Clearing her throat, Chelsea fought the increased burn in her eyes and the new lump constricting her throat. "The guy who was at my apartment the other night. You were right. He's part of this, and whoever…" Or whatever, she thought. "…is after me wants him, too. He left a couple of messages on my apartment phone. It's the only thing I have."

"No. No, it's not!" Nicole stepped into Chelsea's line of sight. "We know he's from the St. Reginald tribe. It might give you a place to start looking."

For an instant, Chelsea wondered which of them was the experienced detective. Why hadn't she remembered that? Then, not wanting to think about that too closely, she murmured to Munch, "Did you hear Nicole?"

"Loud and clear, rookie. You tell Nicole I expect a full explanation – and a candy bar – the next time I see her." Munch's chair squeaked again. "Give me a few minutes. I'll call in the troops and start tracking your mysterious Mohawk. You need anything else…"

"I know who to call," Chelsea finished. She closed the phone slowly, the knot in her stomach unraveling. Faith and company might be scary superheroes, but Munch was family. Chelsea trusted that over any of the girls in the room with her.

Before she had a chance to revel in the relief, though, Faith was at her shoulder. "The Junior's is ready, Chief, and Red's packing up her shit. We need to get you to the car."

It was clear from her posture and the determined tone that Faith intended to stick close during the move.

"I don't remember any planning." The phone call to the station hadn't eaten up _that_ much of Chelsea's concentration. "We're not all fitting in the car. What about the vampires? How are we getting past them? Did you figure out…?"

Dimples peeked out as Faith laughed. "You and Red gotta be related." Putting a hand on Chelsea's shoulder, she steered her toward the door. "Nicole's in charge of getting more of the girls north. She's hooked up to the Tweed Crew on the phone, and Red's doing her thing with the rest of the plans. All you got to do is sit back and enjoy the ride."

"You're kidding!" Whipping her left hand up, Chelsea spun quickly and dislodged Faith's hand.

"Fuck, yeah." Faith stepped around Chelsea and continued to walk away. "But it was fun to see your expression, Chief. You play a lot of poker? 'Cause I'm thinking we need to sit down once this is all over. I could use some extra cash."

Chelsea glowered at the teasing. "If you don't find answers to my questions, we won't get a chance to play cards." As irritating as briefings were before a raid, Chelsea wouldn't go charging into a house without one. Why weren't they talking to the guys in England?

Then it hit her – and Chelsea felt her body grow cold.

They didn't have time for that now. The news from the new Slayers had them on the run, and, if she was reading the situation correctly, at a disadvantage. "Willow," she called out. Faith made no bones about who was the brains of the group. "Can you get me maps of where we're headed? And copies of the tunnel information you sent to that Watcher?" They had a long drive ahead. Fighting vampires and zombies was new; organizing a raid wasn't. Chelsea vowed to ignore the strange targets at the end of their trip and come up with a strategy to keep them all alive.

Still in the early stages of packing up her equipment, Willow merely nodded and turned on her computer. "I'll have to use the hotel business center," she pointed out.

"Uh…OK." Chelsea wasn't sure if she was supposed to respond to the comment.

"Let Red do her thing, Chief." Faith was back to guiding Chelsea to the door. "Sometimes, she just yaps to herself." They dodged the last few tables and a small group of Junior Slayers. Nicole waited for them at the exit. "What's the word, Nic?"

Nicole fell into step, taking a position on Chelsea's other side. Great. Now she had _two_ devoted bodyguards. "Mr. Giles has more cars waiting for us outside. We should be able to get all of us on the road. In fact…" She paused and appeared to scan the hotel lobby. "Juanita's team should be loading up now. I'm sending her out first." Her grin made her look about twelve. "With the way she drives, we'll be safer with her in front."

"Good thinking, Kid." Faith's hand lifted from Chelsea's back as she reached over to high five Nicole. "I'm gonna have to give you the General helmet. You do a damn good job moving the troops."

Chelsea smirked when Nicole turned bright red at the compliment. You could smell the hero worship in the room as the younger girl mumbled a nearly inaudible, "Just…just doing what you told me, Faith." She fell silent as they finished the trip through the hotel.

Bright sunlight poured through the floor to ceiling windows, and Chelsea blinked against the glare. A half-dozen sedans blocked access to the street; for a second, she thought Munch hadn't listened to her order not to come to the hotel.

And then she saw one of the girls from the conference room behind the wheel of the lead vehicle. "Oh my God." This was her escort.

"Yeah, I got that feeling, too." Faith gave a dramatic shudder. "Don't worry, though. Crash's gonna be way the hell ahead of us. We ain't gonna have to deal with her driving skills." Breaking off, she waved a hand at a uniformed hotel employee. "Looks like we're checking out early. I need somebody to give my friend a hand packing up the stuff in the room back there." Her finger pointed toward the conference room for a second. "Nic?"

Like two long-time partners, Nicole continued smoothly. "I'll stay here with Detective Lake."

With a nod, Faith stalked off, heading for the front desk.

An uneasy silence descended. Chelsea rocked impatiently on her heels. "How many times have you done this?" She struggled to find a better way to phrase her real question. "The demon fighting assignment?"

For a second, Nicole fidgeted and seemed unwilling to answer. "Me and the other Juniors are new at it, Detective. We've seen action. Mostly nests of vampires on whatever Hellmouth the Council sends us to." Her lips twitched. "Always with supervision, though. They don't turn us loose like they used to. Faith would get over her thing about planes and fly to England if Mr. Giles did that."


	29. Chapter 29

It wasn't the first time Nicole had mentioned her (and the other Juniors') inexperience. It _was_, however, the first time that Chelsea was actively counting on their combined fighting skills. "Oh." Looking away in an effort to hide her surprise and unease, Chelsea stared out into the street.

"You don't have to worry, Detective." Was that amusement in Nicole's voice?

Chelsea risked a look.

Sure enough, a smile hovered on Nicole's lips and her eyes sparkled with mirth. "We may not spend all our time skulking in cemeteries like the Chosen Two, but that doesn't mean we're going to scream and faint when the fighting starts. Faith…The New Council is big on training and making sure we've got more than just a stake in our pocket." Nicole leaned in closer. "Besides, we're Slayers. When it comes right down to it, nature kicks in – and we kick ass."

The reassurance wasn't enough. Chelsea's hand slipped inside her coat, brushing the cool metal of her backup gun. Stakes and teenagers couldn't match bullets. Could they? "Let's hope there isn't any fighting."

The lame comment drew a snort from Nicole. "You do all the hoping you want, Detective," she said. "The rest of us know better. Prophecies and Slayers generally always lead to one thing: the end of the world…and fighting to prevent it. It's a job hazard."

If the conversation didn't change direction, Chelsea feared she might run (screaming only a little) from the hotel. Crazed perps and serial rapists had nothing on the calm way Nicole discussed their situation. In an attempt to steer the topic into something less frightening, she turned away from the younger girl and peered out the window again. "When you aren't playing bodyguard, are you stationed in New York?"

"With _my_ accent?" Nicole laughed. When she spoke again, the drawl had thickened noticeably, each word painted with the sounds of the Deep South. "Detective, where I come from, the air smells of dogwood blossoms and fried okra – not smog and pizza from the all-night restaurant on the corner." A slight smile took any sting from the verbal jab. "Although," and now Nicole sounded sad, "I haven't seen home in a while. The New Council may not steal us away from our families permanently; that doesn't mean we aren't relocated for training and missions on a monthly basis."

"Sounds like the military." Chelsea tried a little humor of her own. "Do you have uniforms, too? Faith mentioned a General's helmet." The image of Faith decked out in a black leather version of Patton's cavalry uniform had Chelsea's lips twitching.

Nicole must have found the idea amusing, too. She giggled. "I hate to tell you, but… Slayers, as a rule, are bad at following orders. Not to mention the battle we'd have over what to wear. All the stories have Buffy dashing through cemeteries in dresses and sandals." Her eyes dropped to her own worn jeans and battered tennis shoes. "They'd have to tie me down to get me into that."

"Not to mention Faith." Chelsea's chuckles joined Nicole's new wave of laughter.

"Not to mention me, what?" Faith's husky question sobered Chelsea – until she watched Faith stride closer.

That's when Faith's jeans and sweatshirt were replaced in Chelsea's overactive imagination with a floral-print summer dress and heeled sandals.

Chelsea fought the impulse to laugh tooth and nail, losing when she saw Nicole slap a hand over her mouth and turn away, shoulders shaking. "No…nothing," she gasped out between strangled guffaws. "We were…just waiting…for you."

"Right." Faith's scowl indicated she didn't believe Chelsea's statement and wasn't happy with the laughter at her expense. "Get the lead out, Junior. Red's finally got all of her crap packed. We need to be on the road yesterday. I want to hit St. Reginald before it's dark and the vamps got the drop on us."

As if Faith had flicked a switch, Nicole stopped giggling and straightened. "Sorry, Faith." She stepped closer to Chelsea, who noticed the grim, determined expression return to Nicole's face. "Jessie's keeping an eye on the cars. You want me to take point?"

"I'll do it." In a silent apology, Faith slapped a hand onto Nicole's shoulder. "You and the Chief look at them maps while I drive. Red can do any checking or whatever you need on her laptop." Although, Faith glanced over her shoulder, Willow and her bags of equipment still hadn't made it out of the conference room. Damn it. She should never have taken Willow at her word. It always took her three times longer than planned to pack and get ready.

Chelsea's window of voting opportunity would be over before they managed to get to the car.

Faith contemplated simply dragging Willow bodily out of the hotel as the redhead suddenly appeared, jogged through the lobby with two bellboys scurrying in her wake. "Sorry. Giles called again." Willow's rolling eyes indicated it hadn't been anything important – and that was backed up when Willow continued. "He drives me crazy. How many times have we done this? And he still has to remind me to be careful and to keep him updated on our progress."

Choosing _not_ to remind Willow of her own "Be careful" speech from this morning, Faith shrugged. "Cut him some slack, Red. It's the first time we've been out on a…job," she responded, remembering at the last minute they had an audience, "without him. Bet he's rubbed a hole in his glasses already." Moving behind Willow, Faith took the three bags laden with computer equipment and research tomes from Willow's helpers and led the way to the door.

"Since you decided to tote and carry…" Nicole said as she stepped in front of Faith. "I'll go first."

Faith nearly argued. Then the weight of the bags and the realization she couldn't reach any of her weapons sank in. "Definitely gonna promote you, kid." And demote herself at the same time. There were too many details. Details Faith didn't see until it was too late. Looping a couple of straps over her neck and shoulder freed up one hand. At least, Faith reasoned, she'd be able to do _some_ damage if they ran into trouble on the way to the car.

"Make sure I've got lots of brass, OK?" Faith didn't understand Nicole's grin. "I'd hate for my uniform to be plain or boring." Then the smile disappeared. Nicole was all business as she walked through the automatic front door, one hand buried under her jacket and her eyes roaming the sidewalk.

"You next, Red." Faith tried to regain some control of the situation by directing the rest of her troops.

Willow nodded. A second passed, and Faith felt a tingle along her senses.

It wasn't vampires or demons.

Power radiated from Willow, a not-quite-visible nimbus of arcane energy surrounded her. "Detective, come with me. Stay close."

Eyes wide, Chelsea looked from Willow to Faith. "Sure," she mumbled.

It might have been amusing at another time. Right now, though, Faith didn't have time to enjoy Chelsea's sudden loss of poise. "Trust Willow, Chief. Ain't nothing getting close to you with Superwitch on the job." Checking on Nicole's progress, Faith saw she'd reached the car and had the back door open. "Red…"

"We're going," Willow responded. She reached out and twined her arm with Chelsea's. "Just a quick stroll across the sidewalk, Detective." Like two close friends (or lovers, Faith thought fleetingly), they left the hotel.

Faith took one last look around the hotel with her eyes and her senses.

There was nothing out of place. There was no blip except Willow on her radar.

Hunching her shoulders against the cold, Faith trotted to the car and slid behind the wheel. "Buckle up. The trip ain't gonna be this easy the whole way." If it was, she and Buffy must have been doing it wrong back in Sunnydale. Faith put the car in gear and forced her way into traffic, watching another rental car full of Juniors pull out behind them.

The slow pace gave Chelsea too much time to think – and worry. To forestall more hand wringing, she leaned over the front seatback. "Do you have those maps, Willow?" The trip would give her plenty of time to look and plan. She hoped.

"Oh, sorry." Willow's chagrined expression was at odds with the frightening and remote one she'd worn as she'd nearly dragged Chelsea from the hotel. "I just shoved them in with my computer." She reached down to the bad leaning against her legs. "Do you want them all? I printed everything from the area surrounding the tribal lands plus the tunnels that Amy's checking out."

The words tumbled together so fast that Chelsea had difficulty following along.

"Breathe, Red," Faith commented dryly. "If you don't get some air soon, you're gonna pass out and then the Chief won't get _any _of the shit you got for her." Her head turned slightly, eyes continually checking out the line of cars in front of them as well as the progress of the car behind them. "I thought B said you'd gotten over babble but you been outta control since we got here."

"I haven't been that bad." There was hurt…or possibly laughter in Willow's voice. Chelsea couldn't decide which. She _did_ get the impression that this topic was an old and very familiar one from the way Willow wrinkled her nose and poked Faith in the thigh. "You know, the next time you get mentioned in a prophecy, I'm staying in England. You can do your own research and hack into government computer systems all on your own." Willow broke off to unzip the computer bag and dig out a thick sheaf of paper. She held them in Chelsea's direction and watched Faith intently.

Chelsea watched Faith, too. It was far more interesting than peering at the myriad of maps she saw on the paperwork she took from Willow.

A wave of pink slowly crept upward from Faith's collar, staining her neck and ears. "Nah, Red. I didn't mean nothin'. You know that. If you sent me out here with only the Juniors, we'd end up vamp food in no time."

The pink brightened and edged toward magenta.

"'Sides, it wouldn't be the same without you. Gotta have someone to keep me and the kids in line." Faith's smile was hesitant. "I'd be runnin' around in circles while the Juniors fought over bathroom time and curling irons without them schedules and to do lists you like so much."

"Really?" Willow's smile began small and turned into a bright display of teeth and tongue tip in a heartbeat.

Chelsea's observation of the interaction was interrupted by a hand on her forearm. "You want me to help with the maps?" Nicole said softly. She tilted her head toward the front seat for a second before pulling Chelsea back into position in the back. "Let them bicker while we work."

It seemed as if Nicole wasn't only interested in protecting _her_. With a nod of comprehension, Chelsea divided the handful of paper into roughly even stacks and held one out to the younger girl. "We're looking for any place where a large group," she still refused to say the word vampire, "could cut us off or hide."

"Have you seen the maps?" Nicole held one up. "It would be easier to find places where we'd be safe." The outthrust map returned to her lap with a loud rustle, and she bent her head over the rest of the pile with a grumble.

Chelsea spared a glance at the maps in her own hands. Once they drove north Schenectady, there was nothing but state forests and tiny towns. The roads seemed to shrink to two lanes. And after that…

Nicole was right. There was no place for them to hide. They'd be sitting ducks.


	30. Chapter 30

Chelsea stared at the maps intently, losing track of their slow progress through Manhattan. There had to be a way; she simply couldn't find it. "It's a deathtrap," she muttered. The Mohawk Nation couldn't have chosen a worse place. Her ancestral home sat on what amounted to a peninsula, surrounded by three rivers. Had they actually _been_ in St. Reginald then digging in and holding their territory (with an army) was an option.

Unfortunately, the army was already there. An army of vampires. All waiting for them to drive down 37 West and provide a late night snack. Tossing the map in her hand to the seat, Chelsea peered blearily out the window. She wasn't cut out for this. She wasn't a military commander. She was a cop. A cop used to the hum of traffic and a skyline of buildings.

A cop who was trained to notice the car following them half a block back.

Straightening in her seat, Chelsea glanced quickly at Faith. Tanned hands gripped the steering wheel and Faith glared through the windshield at traffic, seemingly unaware of the tail. Willow was intent on her laptop, and Nicole hadn't yet put down the maps in defeat.

"Faith," Chelsea said as casually as possible. "Take a right at the next light." They didn't have lights or sirens; they couldn't pull off the maneuver Olivia had tried the day before. That didn't mean Chelsea wasn't going to get as much information as possible.

"Problems, Chief?" Faith's eyes met Chelsea's in the rearview mirror – and then she started to turn in the seat.

Lunging forward, Chelsea gripped her shoulder. "Watch the road. As you've reminded me several times today, this isn't your type of job. It's mine." The muscles under her hand bunched but Faith finally resettled behind the wheel. "I thought I saw the same car behind us. I want to see if my paranoia is kicking in or if there's a problem. Take a right at the next light."

"Got it." Thankfully, Faith didn't argue further and the click of the turn signal echoed in the tense silence of the car.

Chelsea scooted down in the seat in order to have a better view through the sideview mirror. The car was still there. So was the last car of Slayers. She saw _their_ turn signal blink. When Faith edged into the turn lane, Chelsea held her breath. "Slow down. Way down," she instructed. "Act like you're looking for a place to park."

The car slowed to a crawl immediately, and Willow rolled down her window and stuck her arm out into the chill air, finger waving around as if, Chelsea assumed, Willow were pointing at something. "I think I see the car, Detective. The gray sedan?" Her arm retracted. "Nicole, can you lean across and look in the mirror? I can't see the plate number."

See the license plate? The car was half a block away. Not even Chelsea, with all of her training, could make out a single letter or number. She almost laughed until Nicole sprawled across her lap.

"I got…" Nicole wiggled further, digging her elbows painfully into Chelsea's ribs. "I think it's an M. Or an N. And a two." Her hand slapped the side of the car. "It if was a little fucking closer!"

Reaching down, Chelsea awkwardly patted her arm. The reassurance felt out of place, considering Nicole's role as a bodyguard. It was an instinctive movement, though. No matter how many times Nicole claimed otherwise, Chelsea couldn't see past her age. "Don't worry about it."

Nicole stared up at her in frustrated disbelief.

"Really." Chelsea smiled slightly in defiance of the heated glare. "We don't need the plate. We don't even know if the car is really following us." She didn't _know_; she was fairly certain, though. "Sit up and pay attention. I'll show you how real cops work." Lifting Nicole off her lap, Chelsea continued. "If you ever have another protection job, you'll be a pro." Another look in the mirror verified the car was still with them; however, it had dropped farther back.

Maybe it wasn't following them. Maybe Chelsea was imagining it.

Maybe she wasn't.

Erring on the side of caution – and the possibility of staying alive another day – Chelsea turned her attention back to Faith. "Forget turning at the corner. There's an alley up ahead, past the bakery on the right. Take it but don't signal." She waited long enough for Faith's terse nod. "Willow, call the group in the car behind us. They need to keep going."

Whatever faults Faith's crew had, slow response time wasn't one of them. Willow was on the phone before Chelsea finished speaking, and Faith was not-so-casually checking for the bakery. "Here's the way this works, Nicole. The keys to a successful tail are time and distance. You have to stay far enough back that you don't get spotted, and you need enough time to respond to changes in route. Big cities are easier than small because there are more cars and it's harder to notice one car in the middle of the other hundred on the road."

Nicole nodded. "You want Faith to turn to see if the car you think is following us tries to take the alley, too."

"Exactly." With a quirk of an eyebrow, Chelsea wryly admitted, "Only, that's not always a sure-fire way of identifying a tail. If the people following you are determined and organized enough, they can outsmart you."

She broke off, bracing one hand against the roof, as Faith wheeled the car into the alley. "What now, Chief?"

"Now we all stay alert. Unless the guys behind us are planning to take us out in broad daylight, they can't risk taking the alley. They've got two options now. One, pray traffic thins and they can catch up to us. It isn't a secret where we're going. Or two, they can call for reinforcements and have a brand new car pick us up when we get back on the main street." Chelsea pointed at Nicole. "That's what I meant about outsmarting us. With cell phones and enough help, it's nearly impossible to identify a good tail car."

Faith listened to the law enforcement lesson and restrained the urge to slam the gas pedal through the floor of the rental car. This was out of control. Out of _her_ control. And she hated it. Ignoring the little voice demanding that she take action, any action, Faith concentrated on navigating the dim, narrow alley and watching for any signs of the gray car behind them.

As Chelsea anticipated, though, the car was conspicuously absent. "Which way out, Chief?" Not even a few nights on patrol had given her a handle on New York's geography.

"Take a left out. It's one-way." Faith heard the edge of humor in Chelsea's voice. "The early lessons in proper tailing techniques are easy. Think big squares. All we're doing is going around the block."

It wasn't clear if Chelsea was laughing at Faith or the situation. Neither struck Faith as remotely funny. Confronting the unwelcome thought that she was getting too old and set in her ways for the stresses of New Slaying, Faith said, "Left it is. Red'll keep the Juniors from freaking. Don't want 'em being heroes." She fell silent for a minute, waiting for an opening in the traffic on the main street. When they were safely underway again, Faith used all of her senses to hunt for anything out of place around them. "I got nothin' on the radar." Of course, she hadn't noticed the first car, either.

Perhaps Faith's own paranoia was rearing its head. Chelsea's reply took a split second too long. "No. I don't think so." It was hard to get a read on the truth of that statement since Chelsea was peering out the window. "The car's gone. Keep driving, and I'll let you know if I see another tail."

Driving wasn't as simple as it sounded. Liberally employing the horn, Faith did her best to move through the rows of cars. Progress was slow and steady – and it felt as if they weren't moving.

"Stop it," Willow warned softly. One of her favorite napkin missiles sailed past Faith's face and bounced off the driver's side window. "Getting all 'grrr' at traffic won't make us move faster." She grinned when Faith glared in her direction. "Oooh. Are you about to go Dark Faith on me? I'm so scared."

A choked cough distracted Faith for a moment.

"Sorry," Nicole apologized. She cleared her throat, expression not quite making innocent. "Swallowed wrong, I guess. I'll be fine. Just gonna sit here and study the maps. Make some plans with Detective Lake."

Getting angry was a lost cause. Faith reluctantly acknowledged that. "Watch it, Red. You ain't afraid of me, but that don't mean you gotta ruin it for the Juniors, too. Did you see that? Nic was laughing at me." She scowled. "Lookin' at maps, my ass."

"Don't blame Nicole, Faith. You're so cute when you act all Slayer-y. She couldn't help herself." Willow drew her left leg up onto the seat and rested her shoulder on the passenger door in defiance of the seatbelt. "Now, what's bugging you? The traffic? The possible tail? Heartburn?"

"Were you this mouthy with B?" Faith sighed and slumped in her seat.

This time, Willow laughed out loud. "Sometimes. Mostly, though, she had to put up with Babbling Willow. Believe me, you've got the better model. I may still irritate you, but I don't normally take an hour to do it. I only get really bad when Giles is around. He brings out the worst in me."

Willow was in denial. Faith kept that thought to herself, though. "Yeah, Tweed pushes them buttons, don't he?" She glanced sideways and shared a look with Willow. "He ain't gotten over being English." It didn't help that he'd been _in_ England since they'd defeated the First. "Maybe you need to visit and remind him what it's like with the vamps breathin' down his neck." Faith had no doubt Willow would get her point across. One look at those freaky blue eyes and Giles would remember his plans for a different Council.

"No way," Willow was quick to say. "England's pretty – what I saw of it, anyway. All green, rolling hills and quaint villages. I've got other plans, though. Once this mission is over…"

When Willow's quiet voice trailed away, Faith turned her head. Willow stared sightlessly out the windshield, lower lip caught between her teeth. "Once the Chief's safe, what, Red?"

A nearly indistinguishable shrug was her only response.

Reaching across the seat, Faith gently touched Willow's knee. "Something wrong?" It wasn't like Willow to not share. "You finally gettin' out of the business?" The concept seemed unnatural to Faith; Willow was such an integral part of what they did. Still, she'd been on the front lines since Buffy's first days in Sunnydale – and Buffy had disappeared the second Sunnydale sank into the ground. She had to be tired.

"Oh, no." Willow seemed to recover. Her head came up and the smile returned, even brighter than before. "I've got no plans to quit. Sleep for a year, sure."

"Uh huh." Faith didn't believe Willow for a second. Nope. That smile was just too beaming. "You got plans, Red. I can tell." Willow's smile slipped and her forehead wrinkled. "You only show that many teeth when you're up to somethin'." Pushing her surprising advantage, Faith pressed for more. "Spill, Red. If you ain't quitting, I bet you're gonna toss Tweed out and take over. Head Witch and Watcher. We'll all be dancin' to your tune."

A quiet, "Don't we already?" came from the backseat, but Faith kept her attention on Willow. Nicole had work to do and Faith didn't want to encourage her participation in the conversation.

"Let's hear it." While teasing Willow was fun, Faith wondered if there was more going on than she'd realized. Willow's frown had smoothed some; however, her expression was hesitant. It reminded Faith of the much younger Willow she'd first met in Sunnydale – and that had her backing off in a hurry. "Nevermind, Red. Ain't none of my business."

Faith took Willow's lack of response as agreement. Whatever Willow had planned wasn't something she wanted to share. The silence in the car resumed. The lack of noise (with the exception of rustling maps and the occasional grumble from the back seat) made the trip drag. Tapping her fingers against the steering wheel, Faith amused herself by trying to guess Willow's secret.

Willow knew where Buffy was. Maybe they were going to hook up and do some touring. Faith vaguely remembered Willow getting offers from colleges in England… No. Willow didn't seem the type to play tourist. Get lost in a library, yes. Take a million pictures of some statue, no.

Huh.

The more Faith thought, the more the situation bothered her. Her tapping on the wheel grew more energetic and she glowered at the road ahead.

A bit of a conversation she'd overheard right after their arrival in New York flitted through Faith's mind. Something about training. Willow had been on the phone with Xander. Training and getting the location just right.

Faith's eyes widened and she stiffened against a need to stare at Willow.

Willow and Xander had been talking about a school for the new Slayers. A place for them to train and develop. A place where the Watchers were more teachers than mini-tyrants with too much authority. A place where the need to travel would be balanced out by a home base.

Glower becoming positively lethal, Faith mulled that over. If Willow was lording it over the Juniors, she wouldn't be in the field anymore. Faith couldn't let that happen. Willow _had_ to be in the field. Faith needed her.

Mind racing with ways to keep from losing Willow, Faith failed to notice they'd left the confines of the City. Slowly, the landscape lost the cluster of skyscrapers and the traffic thinned. Trees dotted the side of the road and then eventually surrounded it.

Her preoccupation lasted until a red light flashed in the rearview mirror.


	31. Chapter 31

Without thinking, Faith stepped on the gas pedal and the car shot forward. The road was clear and straight ahead of them. She might be driving a rental car, but there was still a chance they could outrun the police.

"Pull over," Chelsea ordered from the backseat.

Faith ignored the soft command. No way in hell was she stopping. Hands sweating and slick against the steering wheel, she silently urged the car to go faster. Her eyes examined the surrounding terrain. Trees, trees, and more trees. Not even a single clearing dotted the side of the road, and Faith didn't see any place to turn off.

Focused intently on getting away, Faith jerked violently when a hand touched her shoulder. "You don't have to run anymore." Willow tilted her head. "Remember? I've got you covered. Pull over. Please."

"Red…" Instinct warred with reality as Faith pulled her foot away from the accelerator. Her muscles trembled. Her heart raced. The hand on her shoulder tightened, and the car finally coasted to a halt on the shoulder of the road.

"It's OK, Faith." Willow didn't look as if things were fine, though. In fact, her freckles stood out and the smile that was probably supposed to be reassuring was obviously faked.

Faith brought the car to a stop at the edge of the road and very deliberately left her hands on the wheel. The roar of the engine was loud and picked up a strange rhythm with her pounding heart.

No one spoke or even moved.

The roar in Faith's head grew louder to fill the silence. Finally, though, a new sound interrupted the internal noise. Gravel crunched behind the car. Resisting the urge to turn her head and look, Faith's eyes darted frantically to the side view mirror.

Chelsea's partner crept toward them with her gun drawn. "You, in the front seat! Roll down the window and put your hands out where I can see them. Now!" she barked.

The bright sunlight dimmed. Black dots danced in front of Faith's eyes. Luckily, she didn't have to see clearly to depress the button that lowered the window, and it slid down in seconds. Cold air rushed into the car. Faith shivered violently as she thrust both hands through the now-open window.

"Good. Now reach down and open the door," Benson commanded.

Faith's hands lowered and she struggled to pull on the door handle from the awkward angle. After a few seconds, though, she managed to get a grip on the cold metal and pull…

The sound of a door opening coincided with her sweat-slick fingers slipping away from the handle.

"Give it a rest, Liv. Put the gun down and stop scaring the kids." Lake's voice echoed strangely in Faith's head as she tried yet again to open her door. "I told you I was fine. In fact, I told you to stay out of this."

This had gone on long enough. Faith's fear was almost palpable, and Willow and Nicole didn't appear much calmer. Chelsea shoved her door the rest of the way open and climbed out of the car. Olivia's gun slowly lowered. "Are you always like this? I'm _not_ a rookie, remember? If I tell you I'm fine, I'm fine," Chelsea said, working to keep her temper under control. She was glad Olivia and Munch were here, but, damn it, they needed to learn to trust her judgment. To illustrate that fact, Chelsea waved her hands toward her body. "See? Not a scratch. Just like I told you."

"You could have been lying," Olivia pointed out. However, she smiled sheepishly and holstered her weapon.

"I wasn't." Turning toward Munch, who had been sneaking along the opposite side of the car, Chelsea raised an eyebrow and pointed at his still-ready gun. "Put it away, Sarge. I'm fine. The kids in the car are fine. Someone told me recently that the captain gets grumpy if we start shooting for no reason."

Munch held her gaze as he put the gun away. "What's going on, Chelsea?"

For the first time, Chelsea realized Faith had been correct. She couldn't blurt out that she was being chased by an army of vampires. Not even a belief in conspiracy theories would keep Munch from committing her. "Uh…" she mumbled, mind racing.

"Don't lie to me, rookie. I may be old, but I'm not so feeble I can't see the dark cloud of danger in the air," Munch warned.

"I can't explain." It was the complete truth. Chelsea didn't even know where to start. "It's all tied up with my family. Someone's…Someone's been killing them off. Anshu – the guy at my apartment – and I are the only ones left."

Unfortunately, honesty wasn't enough. Neither Munch nor Olivia were satisfied. "So you call up the kid who was stalking you to keep you safe? I don't think so, Chelsea." Munch's eyebrow shot up and he crossed his arms over his chest. "What aren't you telling us?"

Caught between the need to tell Munch and the sudden, choking feel of a phantom straight jacket, Chelsea stared back. "I'm trying _not_ to lie, Sarge," she said at last. "But I'm also not going to explain everything." As Munch's lips thinned in frustration, Chelsea met his eyes, silently pleading for understanding. "Let it go. I'm fine." For now. "You can see that. Get back in the car and go home."

The sound of car doors opening behind Chelsea threatened to interrupt her stare down with Munch. She pushed the awareness away. This was important. She _needed_ him to trust her, even as she ruefully acknowledged that her actions indicated _she_ didn't trust _him_.

"Detective Lake," Willow said quietly, "we can't stay here."

"And why is that, Ms. Rosenberg? Are you late for a soccer game?" Munch spoke without looking away from Chelsea. "If so, you're driving in the wrong direction. I'd be happy to lead you back to Manhattan."

This wasn't going to end well…unless Chelsea broke the rules Faith had laid down. "Munch, Liv, you have to leave." Her words sounded pathetic, almost insubstantial, against the chill wind, the rustle of leaves, and the steady thrum of tension humming deep inside.

"The Chief's right." Chelsea's eyes slid closed as Faith joined the conversation. "We get you want to help, but ya' can't." Amazingly, her husky voice contained a hint of compassion as Faith continued. "Chelsea needs you to watch her back, just not on the front lines."

"And you? Will you be leading the charge?" Olivia moved in Chelsea's peripheral vision. "Who are you? Not some PE teacher. I can smell the prison stink from here. For all we know, _you're_ the ones who have been threatening Chelsea. How about I call the House and do some digging? What would I find?"

Turning her head, Chelsea realized Olivia's hand gripped the butt of her gun again. "It doesn't matter, Liv."

"Yeah, it does, Chief," Faith countered, sounding suddenly very weary. "Only we ain't got the time to talk about it." Hands held carefully away from her body, she took a step closer to Olivia. "Here's the Cliff Notes so you'll leave us the fuck alone. Name's Faith Lehane, ex-con. Did time in California for murder one and assault."

Willow picked up the story seamlessly. "The sentence was recently set aside because there was no evidence that Faith actually committed those crimes."

There was a lot more to the tale, Chelsea figured. Probably more than any of them really wanted to know.

Thankfully, Willow didn't give in to the babble she had at the hotel. When she continued, she was all business. "All you need to know now is that we've been hired to keep Detective Lake safe, and we're very good at what we do."

Whether that was accurate was irrelevant. Willow had managed to illustrate her talents for weaving a believable alibi. "You're bodyguards?" Olivia asked with more than a trace of disbelief as she let go of her gun and straightened.

"My family hired them." Chelsea hated to add to the lies. However, there weren't a lot of options unless she broke down and admitted an army of demons wanted to kill her.

"What do you need from us, Chelsea?" Munch leaned against the rear quarter panel of Faith's rental car in a clear sign he'd accepted (at least for now) Chelsea's story.

Thanking him with a slight dip of her head, Chelsea answered. "I need Anshu, if you can find him. And…" What else? She had to stop thinking like a victim, and start looking at the situation like a cop. "Willow?" Looking over her shoulder, Chelsea peered at the younger woman. "If Munch and Liv start digging, where's the best place to get us more information?"

Willow frowned. "Well, I've had the girls and Giles studying the, uh, threat." Her skin began to turn pink, the freckles dusting her cheeks highlighted in contrast. "I mean, as much as we could. I guess your friends could start there? Checking out the other tribes in the Confederacy? We don't have a reason anyone would want to rig the election."

The questions were about to fly. Willow had (inadvertently, Chelsea was sure) opened the door for Munch and Olivia. "Election? Are you about to become a Godmother now, rookie?" Munch's smirk didn't quite hide the concern in his eyes. "What the hell is your family into? Did they skip the Sicilians and start up their own connections in the casinos?"

"I don't know, Sarge." Chelsea was tired of saying that. "We're on our way to find out." And maybe fight a war. "I really need your help on this, but it has to be on the sidelines. Faith and her crew do this for a living." The almost-lie slipped out easily. "Please, Sarge."

"OK, Chelsea," Munch muttered. He held up a hand when Olivia started to argue. "We'll do it your way." An unspoken "for now" hung in the air. "I'll do my magic on the internet and see what conspiracy I can uncover around the St. Reginald tribe and casino. Until you hear from me," he said, one bony finger pointed imperiously at Chelsea, "you do us all a favor and keep your head down."

Her throat suddenly burning, Chelsea nodded. "You got it," she choked out. She watched through a haze of tears as Olivia and Munch strode back to their car. This was the right move – even if it felt as if she was sending her only _real_ allies, her family, away. She stood frozen until the car was a speck in the distance.

"Gettin' cold out here, Chief, and we got a lot of drivin' to do." Faith approached Chelsea.

"Yeah." Chelsea tore her eyes away from the horizon and spun on one heel. It hurt to talk. It hurt to think of going on alone without the familiar backup of her fellow cops. Attempting to push the pain away, she joked, "I should have borrowed the bubble from Munch. Even a rental can make good time if you've got the right equipment on the dash."

A husky chuckle answered Chelsea's joke. "You ask real nice, I bet Red can use her mojo to make a light. Sirens, too." Faith started toward the car with a determined stride and then paused, one hand on the door handle. "Only cops I know I met in the Big House. As much as most of 'em were pricks, they stuck together. Your crew's not gonna let this go, are they?"

Chelsea's lingering feeling of abandonment lightened. Faith was right. The Thin Blue Line was legendary. "They agreed to stay out of the way."

"Yeah." Faith opened the door but didn't immediately get inside.

"Drive fast. I figure Munch will get protective and turn around soon." Chelsea was smiling as she trotted after Faith.


	32. Chapter 32

Faith took Chelsea at her word. As soon as they were both in the car, Faith stepped on the gas. From the back seat, Chelsea stared at the landscape flashing by. Every once in a while, though, she turned her head and looked back.

So far, Munch and Liv weren't behind them. Or, if they were, they were playing it safe and hanging way back.

Chelsea wasn't sure how she felt about that. Having more backup was good. Possibly getting her new SVU family killed wasn't. Killed. It wasn't an alien concept for a cop. Over the past few years, Chelsea had faced countless situations where her life had been in danger. Somehow, it felt different this time. She didn't know what to expect when they reached St. Reginald. How did vampires and demons differ from humans? Faith and Nicole had mentioned enhanced strength and speed. What else? Was she about to face creatures off of a Hollywood set? Or did they appear human-like?

Did she really want to know?

"Faith, I think I found a good place to settle in once we get to the election site." Nicole's voice interrupted Chelsea's frantic thoughts. "There's a grouping of buildings on the north edge of town, right against one of the rivers."

"You think the vamps won't be there waiting?" Faith glanced into the rearview mirror.

A light pink suffused Nicole's neck, and Chelsea watched her press her lips together for a second. "They could." She cleared her throat. "But I'm betting they won't be. The actual tribal center is in a different location. That's where I think they'll go; it's normally where Detective Lake would have to make her selection of War Leader."

Then why… "Normally? What," other than an army of demons, "is different about now?" Despite all her efforts, Chelsea couldn't keep the sarcasm out of her question.

"This time," Nicole met Chelsea's scorn with quiet sincerity, "we have you, Detective. You and the rest of the St. Reginald tribe. Nothing in the documents indicates the vote has to happen in a specific location. There is no rule that you have to be in the tribal center. You simply have to be there with the Council." She tilted her head. "Why can't we use that to our advantage?"

"You're assuming we can get a message through." Still, Chelsea acknowledged it wasn't a bad plan.

That made Nicole laugh. "No. I'm not assuming anything. We've got Slayers and Willow on our side. If nothing else, we'll use magical smoke signals."

The somber mood in the car broke up. Chelsea heard Faith snort and Willow giggle. "Careful, kid. You're starting to remind me of Munch – and that's just wrong." Grinning faintly, she picked up one of the discarded maps and peered at it. "What else do you have?"

"That's it." Nicole's laughter faded. "For now. A lot depends on what Simmons and his team find in those caves."

Chelsea had forgotten that. The map in her hand crumpled until she regained enough self control to loosen her grip. "So we still have to find a way to _get_ to St. Reginald." No wonder every member of Faith's team had struck her as crazy. All the emotional ups and downs were going to push Chelsea over the edge of sanity soon, too.

"Like Nic said, got a lot ridin' on Amy and Simmons. If the vamps are waitin' in the caves then we got a problem. If not, we head for them buildings Nic pointed out." Meeting Chelsea's eyes in the rearview, Faith said clearly. "Until we know what's there, don't act like an addict who lost her stash."

Stiffening, Chelsea snapped, "How am I supposed to act? There are…_things_ waiting to kill me!"

"And them things is as scared of me as you are of them," Faith replied with a cocky grin. "Add in the rest of the Juniors and Red, they're probably as freaked as you, Chief. Sit back, relax, and take a nap. Like I said earlier, it's gonna be a long day, and I'm figurin' a longer night."

Faith had to be kidding. Chelsea glared impotently at the back of Faith's head. She couldn't sleep. Not now. Not until this was over. She stared for several minutes, willing Faith to turn around or look in the mirror. When Faith didn't, Chelsea contented herself with examining the maps with extra fervor. Maybe she'd overlooked something the first time.

* * *

For the next several miles, Faith kept her eyes on the road and listened to the sound of rustling maps and impatient sighs from the back seat. Her hands tightened on the wheel. Why couldn't Chelsea be more like Nicole? The Junior Slayer wasn't acting like a prima donna. She was hunched over a map (without the sound effects), looking for ways to make the trip safer.

Chelsea's next sigh grated on Faith's already strained nerves.

One more of those, and Faith was going to have Willow knock Chelsea's ass out. Or…maybe she would stop the car and do the knocking out on her own. Faith grimaced. Willow would kill her if she did that. To keep herself under control, Faith went back to her earlier musings on Willow and her plans for after the election.

A school for Slayers sounded good. Really good. They had too many Juniors running around now, and their training was hit or miss. Thanks to the First and the destruction of the Old Council, there weren't enough Watchers, and Faith was the only Senior Slayer. Kennedy didn't count; not in Faith's mind, anyway. Buffy was in Rome, according to Willow, ignoring Giles' frantic attempts to bring her back into the fold. They had to find some way to keep the kids occupied and safe.

Faith's eyes slid across the front seat. "Hey, Will?"

"Yes?" Willow answered immediately, looking up from her computer screen.

Now what? Faith didn't want to look like she was prying. Or concerned. "I was thinkin'…" The words dragged out and then died off. Screwing up her courage, she forged on. "Once the Chief's done with this thing, you want to talk about…"

Faith took too long. The shrill ring of a cell phone cut off her stumbling attempt to ask Willow about her plans. "Lake," Chelsea announced from the back seat.

Tearing her eyes away from Willow, Faith cursed the interruption – and her own lack of conversational skills. What was wrong with her? It was only Willow. She would have explained things to Faith, right? The school idea wasn't a secret, not if Xander was involved.

"Where?" Chelsea's one-sided conversation once again tore Faith away from her inner rambling. "Are you sure?" When Faith peered into the rearview mirror, she nearly laughed at Chelsea's grimace and eye roll. "Yeah, yeah. I got it, Fin. I didn't mean to question your expertise. I'll let the crew here know. Thanks." Chelsea's phone clicked shut.

"You got good news, Chief?" They could use some. Faith peered over the back seat for a second.

Chelsea wasn't looking her way, though. She stared pensively at her phone. "I think so."

When she didn't continue, Faith cleared her throat. "If ya' ain't sure, Chief, let us know what you got. Maybe we can figure it out for you." It wasn't fair. On one hand, she had Willow, who talked incessantly and never got to the point. Now Faith had Chelsea, who seemed to be at the opposite end of the information highway.

"That was Fin." Chelsea thawed enough to smirk when Faith narrowed her eyes and growled. "One of the cops in my unit. He and Stabler found Anshu, and he's back at the station house."

"That's definitely good news," Willow commented. She turned sideways in the seat. "Now we know he's safe, too. If your partner and Detective Munch find the get the information on the tribes, maybe we'll have a better idea what to expect in St. Reginald."

Chelsea's silence indicated there was more to the phone call than she'd admitted. "Chief?" Faith prodded. "You were all about protecting this Anshu. You change your mind?" That's all they needed. Another problem.

"No. No, I didn't change my mind," Chelsea finally answered. "I was just wondering how we're going to get Anshu to St. Reginald. He's with Fin and Stabler now, and we just sent Liv and Munch back to Manhattan."

So they'd avoided one issue and created another. Faith floundered – and did what she always did in that situation. She looked at Willow. "What do you think, Red?"

"I think nothing we do is going to keep Chelsea's friends out of this." Willow frowned and bit her lip. "The biggest problem is how to arrange a meeting at a safe location. If I remember right, this is the best way to make the trip from the City." She broke off and began typing on the computer. "Let me see if there are any airfields close to St. Reginald."

The car grew silent, as if everyone held their breath waiting for Willow's results.

"Damn!" Willow's frown turned into a scowl. "I'm sorry, Detective. It looks like the only way to bring Anshu to the election site is to have your friends bring him."

Faith didn't like that option. "Red, we got enough trouble keeping the Chief safe, and we're running out of time. We can't wait for the cops to catch up." As soon as she made the comment, Faith wanted to take it back. Poor Willow stared at her, frustration and helplessness dulling her green eyes. Dragging her gaze away and back to the road, Faith swallowed hard. She hadn't meant to make Willow feel bad. Lips pressed together, she desperately hunted for another solution.

Turning around was out. They had to get Chelsea to the election site in time, Anshu or not. Asking the cops to drive through hordes of vampires wasn't on the menu. Not while Faith was in charge. That left… "What about the Juniors? We got cars full of 'em. Call Crash and have her meet this Fin somewhere."

"You're a genius!" Willow had her cell phone open so quickly she might have been mistaken for a Slayer.

Faith basked in the approval while Willow dialed. Her happiness lasted until Nicole muttered, "A genius? Anshu's going to be kissing the ground by the time Juanita gets to St. Reginald."

A paper missile zipped through the air, skimming the top of the seatback, in Nicole's direction. "Juanita? It's Willow." Words tumbling together, Willow explained the situation to her audience on the phone – all the while sending Death Rays with her eyes at the Junior Slayer. "You'll need to contact Detective Fin…" Willow broke off and transferred her gaze to Chelsea as Faith tried to get a glimpse of Nicole in the rearview mirror.

"Detective Tutola," Chelsea clarified. "Or Detective Stabler. Let me get you their numbers. Do you have something to write with?"

Jumping into the conversation, Faith said, "Don't need it. Just talk slow enough for Crash to relay the info."

"Got it. OK, Juanita," Chelsea raised her voice unnecessarily. "Fin…Detective Tutuola's number is 718-509-0673." She waited a beat until Willow motioned for her to continue. "And Stabler's is 718-200-9822."

A thumbs up from Willow indicated the information had been passed on successfully. "All right. Let us know when you are back on the road for St. Reginald. Hopefully, we'll have a game plan by then." Willow paused, thumb poised to end the call. "Be careful, OK?"

Faith smiled. That was Willow. She'd never learn that Slayers – even Junior ones – didn't do caution well. Hopefully, she never would. "Looks like we got one of your Christmas presents, Chief. You wanna add anything to the list or is stayin' alive for another day enough?"


	33. Chapter 33

"I'm a cheap date," Chelsea answered. "Staying alive is good enough for me."

Faith grinned. "Wicked. I don't even have to wrap it, neither. Good thing, too. Last time I did that, it looked like some handicapped kindergartner put it together. Musta taken Red an hour to open the box."

"I had to resort to slicing the paper and tape with a dagger," Willow chimed in. Her eyes sparkled as she regarded Faith. "Don't let the super abilities fool you, Detective Lake. Slayers are great at killing evil. Turn them loose on normal things like cars and Christmas gifts, though, and they are often sadly lacking."

"I'll worry about that later," Chelsea murmured – and then yawned.

Resisting the urge to point out (again) that Chelsea should use the time in the car to sleep, Faith turned her attention back to the road. "Nic, take another look at the maps. If we're gonna hole up in those buildings, what are the vamps gonna do?" It was too much to hope they'd give up. "And can we fit the whole crew together, includin' the Chief's family or do we need to find another place for them?"

"I don't know." Faith caught Nicoles's embarrassed shrug in the rearview mirror. "From the maps, it's hard to tell if the buildings are connected or just close together. And we don't know how many of the St. Reginald tribe is…" Her voice faltered for a second and she grimly met Faith's eyes in the mirror. "We don't know how many are waiting for us."

Nicole was too smart sometimes. She'd already picked up on what Faith had worried about since leaving New York. Was Chelsea's tribe waiting for her? Or were they already dead or Turned? "Then we need to get the 411 on that. Is there a way to contact the tribe?"

"There's a website," Willow said. "I could send them an email or call the number listed on the homepage."

Faith shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She hadn't been thinking modern technology when she'd asked her question. She'd had visions of those magical smoke signals Nicole had mentioned earlier. "Give it a try, Red, as long as you can keep whoever answers from figurin' out where we are."

"Oh, that's not a problem." Willow was already typing. "I've got a great program that shifts my IP address through a series of guest servers. It would take someone days to trace our real location." Faith didn't bother to interrupt or ask for a less technical explanation for that. If she did, Willow would get sidetracked and forget the actual task.

"What about making sure you're talking to friend, not foe?" Chelsea leaned over the back of the seat. "I don't want to send an email and have one of those vampires waiting for us when we hit St. Reginald."

That sounded suspiciously like another possible problem. Faith glanced at Willow and raised an eyebrow.

"It's a risk," Willow admitted. "There just doesn't seem to be a way around that. I mean, you've never met anyone from the tribe except Anshu, right?"

Anshu. Chelsea had met Anshu. He was one of the good guys. "Chief, call Fin." Faith wanted to whoop in victory. "We've been missin' the boat. We ain't got to worry about trusting some voice on the phone."

Chelsea took her phone out as required. She did not, however, make the call like Faith wanted. "What did we miss?"

Questions sucked. Why couldn't anyone just do what she told them? Faith ground her teeth and did _not_ growl the way she wanted. "Fine. I'll spell it out for ya'. You know Anshu. Anshu knows the guys in St. Reginald. You call him; he calls them. We got friends waitin' for us." Her control slipped. "That good enough or do I get Red to draw you a fucking picture?"

"Faith!" Willow's soft reprimand coincided with Chelsea's grunt of understanding. "That wasn't nice," she said as Faith glared angrily out of the windshield. Poking Faith's thigh, Willow continued. "_I_ should be the grumpy one anyway."

That got Faith's attention. "Huh?"

"I'm supposed to have all the answers. Not you. You're the Slayer." Lips quivering in the beginning of a wide grin, Willow said, "Why can't you follow the rules? You're supposed to hate research and run for the gym whenever it's time to figure things out. If I'm not careful, you won't need me at all. What will I do then? There aren't exactly retirement homes for former genius witches."

Throwing her head back, Faith laughed. "I'll get Nic right on that, Red. 'Cause I've noticed it's been me and her that's come up with the big plans lately. You want something on the beach or you tired of sun and sand?"

* * *

Faith's laughter nearly drowned out the distant ring of Fin's cell phone. Plugging her free ear with a finger, Chelsea strained to hear his eventual answer. "Yo. What's up, rookie?"

"Is Anshu still with you?" Chelsea blushed the second the words were out. Of course, Anshu was still there. She hadn't unveiled their plan yet and it was unlikely he'd run away. Covering her embarrassment, she rushed on. "Put him on the phone. I need to ask him something."

"Hang on," Fin mumbled. His voice grew distorted for a second.

Then a new voice joined the conversation. "Chelsea?" The accent was familiar, and Chelsea found herself relaxing slightly. "Are you safe?"

"I'm fine," Chelsea assured Anshu. "I'm with…I'm with friends and on the way to the election site."

A sharp inhale sounded in her ear. "Then you know."

"Most of it." The admission was wry. "There are a few details we're still lacking. I've got a group on the way to St. Reginald, and they're expecting trouble. We need to get you on the road, too." Now came the tricky part. She'd only met Anshu once, and if he was anything like she thought, trust didn't come easily. "I need you to do a couple of things."

"Whatever you need." Anshu's immediate response derailed Chelsea's mental scramble for ways to cajole his help.

Chelsea's tight grip on the phone eased. "Thank you," she said sincerely. "We've got a group heading back toward Manhattan to pick you up." Opening the map draped over her thighs, she peered at the various roads and towns. Damn it. Why hadn't they picked a rendezvous spot when they sent the car for Anshu? Chelsea scowled and relayed the information she _did_ have. "Tell Fin and Stabler to head up I-87. I've got another bunch of friends heading your way, and they'll call with the meeting location. Your contact's name is Juanita."

In answer, Chelsea heard the low rumble of Anshu's voice, and an even fainter reply from Fin. "They've got it." Anshu must have relayed the information; his voice was now loud and clear in Chelsea's ear. "We will head out in a moment. You said you needed two things. What is the other?"

"Call the tribe," Chelsea said bluntly. She didn't know how else to phrase the request. "We've got trouble waiting." He probably already knew that. "We need an edge; a way to get safely into St. Reginald. Right now, the plan is to drive straight there and head for…"

Faith's hand shot up, distracting Chelsea. "Might be somebody listenin' in, Chief. Don't give him all the details. We can fill him in when Crash gets here."

Once again, the heat of shame burned Chelsea's face. She wasn't thinking like a cop, damn it. Faith was right. Voice tight, she said into the phone, "Can you get in touch with someone you trust in St. Reginald? Backup would be nice."

"I will do the best I can, Chelsea." Sadness laced Anshu's voice. "There are not many left, even among the other tribes. Only the Flint tribe prospers."

The Flint tribe. If they grew while the others died off, were they her enemy? Chelsea filed that away for later. "Thank you, Anshu. We'll see you soon." Then, responding to some deep seated instinct, she whispered, "Be careful," and quickly ended the call. She cleared her throat and blinked against the sudden burn of tears. "We're set. Anshu's going to make the call, and he and Fin will be on the road to meet Juanita soon." Stuffing her phone into her jacket pocket, Chelsea leaned forward and peered at Willow. "Anshu may have given us a clue, as well. He mentioned one of the tribes, the Flint. Apparently, they are doing well. The rest of the tribes aren't. Maybe there's a reason for that."

* * *

Despite Chelsea's best intentions, the quiet hum of tires on pavement lulled her to sleep. Only the shocking lack of movement woke her. Eyes snapping open, she stared dazedly around the car.

"It's okay, Detective." Nicole rubbed red-rimmed eyes. "We're at Simmons' and Amy's."

Simmons. It took a long second for Chelsea to make the connection. "The Brit and the kid checking out the caves? Did they find anything?" Whether from the abrupt return to wakefulness or anticipation of the answer, Chelsea's heart pounded rapidly.

"I don't know. Faith and Willow just went inside." As soon as Nicole mentioned the other two occupants of the car, Chelsea noticed they were missing. "We can go in, too, if you want."

"Yeah, let's go." There was no way Chelsea wanted to stay in the car. Shaking off the remaining fuzziness from her nap, she shoved open the door and climbed out. Cold air and a brisk wind chilled her immediately; not even the sunlight peeking through the thick clouds helped. Chelsea huddled into the dubious protection of her coat as she followed Nicole up to the rundown cabin at the end of the drive.

Faith, Willow, and the man Chelsea remembered as Simmons from the teleconference looked up as they came inside. "Ah, hello. You must be Detective Lake." Although he still appeared rumpled and tired, Simmons strode forward with his hand extended.

Chelsea shook his hand and returned Simmon's smile. "Yes. Sorry I'm late." Late. She hadn't been _late_; she'd been sleeping – while everyone else was hard at work. As a detective, Chelsea was used to working long hours and being in the thick of the action. It took great self control to meet Simmons' eyes and change the subject. "Have you found anything we can use?"

"Perhaps." Simmons gestured at Willow and Faith. "We have been researching your information on the Flint tribe. Did you know that they are the only modern Mohawk tribe not recognized by the American government? We discovered they recently won a lawsuit to reclaim part of their hereditary tribal lands; however, the legitimacy of that claim is debated even among the rest of the Mohawk nation."

Simmons didn't exactly babble. That didn't mean Chelsea understood the flood of information, or immediately recognize its relevance. As they reached the research area, Faith winked. "Stay with us, Chief. Simmons can't help the info spew. It's a Tweed thing. Me and Nic'll be glad to translate for you." She nimbly stepped away from Willow's well-aimed pinch. "Red's got the same problem, even if she can't admit it. Don't be lookin' to her for help."

Their continued levity teased a chuckle out of Chelsea. "I'll keep that in mind. For now, can one of you," she left precisely who deliberately vague, "tell me whether the Flint tribe is a threat? And if so, why?"

"I can answer the first question." Willow scowled at Faith. "And I'll even keep things simple for _some_ of you to understand." Turning back to her laptop and a stack of books, Willow picked up the largest of the tomes and pointed to one of the pages. "We suspected all along the prophecy had to do with the election. Unfortunately," she continued in chagrined tones, "we got tangled up in researching the prophecy itself and neglected any in-depth look into the background of the Mohawk tribes or the overall set up of the Iroquois Confederacy."

Moving closer, Chelsea leaned over the small table and read the passage Willow had singled out. "If all the heirs of a Lordship title become extinct, and all the families in the clan, then the title shall be given by the Lords of the Confederacy to the family in a sister clan whom they shall elect." Electing a new Lord was her job. If there were no candidates… "The Flint are out of luck then. This only comes into play if Anshu dies, right? He's the only remaining qualified heir."

"Keep readin', Chief. It ain't that simple." All of Faith's playful teasing had disappeared.

Eyes drawn back to the text by her warning, Chelsea tried to brace for the new, disheartening information. "If any of the Royaneh women, heirs of a titleship, shall willfully withhold a Lordship or other title and refuse to bestow it, or if such heirs abandon, forsake or despise their heritage, then shall such women be deemed buried and their family extinct. The titleship shall then revert to a sister family or clan upon application and complaint. The Lords of the Confederacy shall elect the family or clan which shall in future hold the title."

Her eyes rose to Faith's and then Willow's.

"Let me guess. I'm one of these Royaneh. The _last_ Royaneh woman," Chelsea declared with absolute certainty.


	34. Chapter 34

"I wasn't calling you Chief for the hell of it," Faith said laconically.

Sometimes, Faith's sense of humor was funny. It kept Chelsea from panicking too badly. Right now, though, it grated on her nerves and patience. "You must be. This," she said, pointing to Willow's book, "says I elect the Lord. The _Chief_," Chelsea enunciated. "I'm something else. More like part of the Electoral College."

It was immediately clear Faith didn't recognize the term. Her eyebrows drew together and she mumbled a curt, "Whatever. Sounds like you're in charge of things. And that makes you the Chief."

Willow jumped in with a wide smile and a significant look at Chelsea. A look that said: Humor her. It's easier that way. "The only thing I see here…" Breaking off, Willow pointed to the text Chelsea had previously read. "This says that the other tribe would get voting and succession rights if you refuse to show up or name an heir. Or if you suddenly go off the deep end and do something dishonest. It doesn't say anything about what happens if you _can't_ show up."

"In all likelihood, the passage would still apply." Simmons sat down at the small table and pulled another book from the pile. "I am more concerned with the _why_ of all this. The Mohawk tribes have never been a part of the mystical Native American traditions. Vampires are far outside their realm of experience. What could this army possibly want?"

"Death and destruction?" Nicole didn't sound as though she was trying to be funny. "Isn't that what they usually go for?"

With a chuckle, Faith picked up a scroll and waved it at Nicole. "Yeah, kid, but killin' a few tribes ain't like destroying the world. They gotta want something else. I mean, Sunnydale only got the freaks and big bads because of the Hellmouth. Open that and ending the world is a breeze."

Chelsea jumped in surprise when both Willow and Simmons sat forward. "What?" Had they found something? What had she missed?

Whatever it was, Faith and Nicole had missed it, too. "Red? What is it?" Faith frowned fiercely. "I don't feel nothin' on the radar." The scroll fell to the table with a bang. "Did that brain of yours figure something out?"

"No," Willow said with a pained sigh. "Yours did. Again."

There was a long silence, and Chelsea gripped the arms of the chair in frustration. Why couldn't Willow finish her thoughts? Why was there always a pregnant pause before vital information was relayed? "What…did…you…find?" she enunciated slowly and deliberately.

* * *

Shit. Chelsea sounded pissed. Faith could relate. She had a hard time dealing with the research crew's slow delivery sometimes. Still, she didn't want the other woman to explode. "Will. Get with program and tell us what the fuck is going on."

"I'm trying." Willow rubbed her eyes with one hand and set her book down carefully. "It's too crazy. I can't be right." Her eyes rose, locking with Simmons'. "Can I? Or did you hear what I heard?"

Enough was enough. Faith reached over and grabbed Chelsea's arm as she began to stand up. "We fight fucking vamps and demons, Red. Like that ain't crazy? Stop looking at Simmons and worrying about a straight jacket and just give us the info." She felt Chelsea's muscles quivering. "Easy, Chief," she said in an urgent whisper. "This looks big, and sometimes Red needs a second to get over the freak."

Chelsea's nod was almost imperceptible before she leaned stiffly back in her chair.

"You were right, Faith." Faith was still so focused on Chelsea that she barely registered Willow's chagrined comment. "You said the bad guys have a reason for what they do. Unless it's a newly risen vampire, you're absolutely right. I started to wonder why St. Reginald. Why the Mohawk?"

"And?" Faith slowly returned to her seat. Chelsea still fairly vibrated. "You didn't start squealin' over that. You only get that wild over big shit." She hated this. All the tension. Being the one holding it all together. Getting the research crew to cough up information. Keeping the Juniors (or one crusty detective) under control.

Willow raised a hand. "Sorry. I should know better, Faith, Chelsea. Here's what I think." Looking up, she met Faith's eyes, her regret clear in the green depths. "There is something in St. Reginald the vampires – maybe this Flint Tribe – want. They need it or covet it so badly, they nearly wiped out Chelsea's tribe, and they are actively hunting the two people keeping the St. Reginald Tribe in business. I think…" Willow's eyes flickered away. "The only thing I can think of… What if St. Reginald is like Sunnydale? What if Faith was _exactly_ right? What if there's a Hellmouth here?"

The words hung in the air.

Not knowing how to respond, Faith merely stared at Willow. A Hellmouth. "You know for sure?" What the hell were they going to do if Willow was correct?

"No. No, I'm definitely not of the sure." A wry smile lightened Willow's grim expression. "It makes sense, though. At least, I think it does, and Simmons seemed to be on the same page."

"Indeed," Simmons quickly agreed. "I do not know how we shall verify our belief, however. I have had the girls here searching all of the current documentation on the area, looking for caves. Patrols have found nothing. Were this the site of even a small Hellmouth, I would have expected at least a handful of vampires or a demon."

Simmons was wrong. He and Willow had missed the boat. "We got our proof, Tweed. Your lead Junior found it," Faith said softly. This changed everything. They'd come charging toward St. Reginald with a plan based on faulty research.

"Faith?" Willow's chair squeaked as she scooted up to Faith's knee.

For once, Faith reached for Willow. She needed…she needed an anchor. Willow's hand grounded her. Its warmth chased away the first shiver of doubt about her ability to keep Chelsea – and the world – safe. "That feeling Amy had. It probably ain't the vamps. Slayer senses always know a Hellmouth when they see it." The calluses on Faith's fingers caught on the softer skin of Willow's hand as she stroked over the back. "We just got to find the damned thing and make sure it stays closed while the Chief keeps the whole mess in the family."

All with a bunch of Juniors.

Faith realized she was gripping Willow's hand tightly when Willow gasped. "Sorry," she mumbled and began to pull away.

"I don't think we'll have to about worry anyone trying to hide the mouth to Hell." Despite the two chair arms between them, Willow managed to inch closer to Faith. "The Law of Sunnydale says it will be right at the heart of town. I don't remember a high school on the map, though." Her grin revealed all of her teeth. "There was a tribal hall…"

"Just fucking great." It was a good thing Willow had linked their fingers or Faith might have made a run for the car. "First we think we got to keep the Chief alive. Now you tell me she's probably gonna end up casting a ballot while crap crawls out of the Hellmouth under her feet. Maybe B's the smart one, working on her tan and leaving the stakes at home."

Faith's complaints were pro forma. Even as she griped at the group clustered around the table, her mind examined the new information. They finally had all (or at least most) of the facts. They needed a game plan and then they needed to move. "Nic, find Amy and the rest of the crew. I don't care if they're sacked out or on patrol." The younger Slayer was out of her chair in a heartbeat. "Will, we need to know if Crash has picked the old guy up yet. And ask if the Chief's friends gave her a hard time. I don't trust 'em not to come along to help or whatever." The thought of their interference didn't bring frustration now. This close to the fighting, Faith realized two more bodies on their side wasn't a bad idea.

Willow dug her phone from her pocket one-handed. The other remained firmly wrapped around Faith's.

Tuning out the phone conversation, Faith gazed at the table. Books, maps, notes, and computers. "What else do you have for us, Simmons? Anything we can use?"

"Not at present," he answered regretfully. "The girls have been hunting for the possible caves since Ms. Rosenberg sent the maps. Our research has turned up only background information on the Mohawk nation, and we are no closer to understanding the parts of the prophecy. I'm afraid I've failed on all counts."

Guilt and self-reproach must be a British trait. Simmons sounded like Giles. "Can't fail if we don't got the right tools, Tweed. We're used to playing shorthanded. We'll get it done, though, just like always." At least, they would as soon as Faith put the rest of the plan together. "You heard from the last team? Are they coming here or shacking up on the other side of St. Reginald?"

"When it became clear that out path to the election sight might be blocked, I diverted the final team to Ottawa. The girls are currently making their way to a town on the far side of the St. Lawrence River from our final destination." Rifling through the paperwork on the table, Simmons located a map. He spread it out and pointed. "They have several possible points of entry. This bridge," he said, pointing to a yellow line marked 138, "or any number of water routes should they charter a boat."

"You're wicked, Tweed." The city of Cornwall, the city Simmons had indicated, was on a direct line across the water from the house Nicole thought would be a good place to set up. "Giles is gonna hate the phone bill this month." Faith nearly smiled. He'd have to come to the States to yell about it – if they survived the fight. "Tell the new kids to start sailin'. We want to be here." Bypassing Simmons' map, Faith laid out the printed map Nicole had left behind and stabbed a finger at the planned command center.

Simmons nodded tersely and picked up his own cell phone.

"That leaves you and me, Chief." Faith stood up and stretched. Things were moving fast now. She'd forgotten that. Once the research had hit a dead end and the Hail Mary was in the air, time sped up. They had to be ready to roll when the calls were done. "Round up anything that looks like a weapon, even if it _is_ some heavy-ass book. We run out of stakes and knives, we'll chuck the damned things at the vamps."

Snorting, Chelsea stood as well. "Yeah, but we'd have to carry them to do that. I'm old. I might throw my back out. How about we leave them here? I'm sure your Willow will be happy to pick them up on the way home." She strode across the room and grabbed a duffel bag half-hidden behind a battered loveseat. "Where is home, by the way? The accent says Boston."

Boston. Faith shook her head at that memory. "Ain't been there in a long time, Chief. How'd you miss the California Girl Faith?" She looked up and winked at Chelsea. "Spent a few years there, most of 'em behind bars. Red's got me hopping all over the damned place now; you want to hook up later, though, try Cleveland. Fucking ugly city; lots of vamp-y fun."

"Not to put too fine a point on it: no. I walk away from this, I'm leaving the vamps to you. Chasing rapists, murderers, and child abusers. That's _my_ future." Faith thought Chelsea sounded happy (and amused) about that.

"Sure, Chief. I believe you." In the background, Faith heard Willow close her phone. Footsteps echoed from upstairs. She examined the room for any last weapons. "What are you gonna do when you run into something you can't explain? An 'ugly mugger' with weird teeth? Bite marks on a on a body?" With a sigh, she picked up an ornate, dagger-shaped letter opener from the research table and stuffed it into a pocket. "Now that you know about the vamps, things won't be the same, ya' know?" Dusting her first vampire had changed Faith's life forever.

Slinging the bulging duffle over her shoulder, Chelsea grimaced. "If that happens, I'll take a page out of Munch's book: it's all a government cover-up. There really _are_ aliens in Area 51, and they've started killing people in Midtown."


	35. Chapter 35

"Huh. Won't be far off, Chief." Faith winked and patted her pockets, confirming her personal stash of weapons. "Some of them demons _look_ like aliens. The army even set up in Sunnydale a few years back to play doctor with them."

She bit back a grin at Chelsea's disbelieving expression. Too bad there wasn't a camera around. Faith was willing to bet Munch and Liv would pay good money to see it. "I don't believe you," Chelsea said, right on cue.

Shrugging, Faith glanced at Willow. "You don't have to. Will saw 'em, and I know you'll believe her. Will's got innocent and honest down, don't you, Red?"

An auburn eyebrow rose. "Me?" Willow stood and stretched, and Faith felt a tingle of power. "We've had this discussion before, Faith. In fact, many, many times before." The tingle grew until Faith's teeth vibrated from the energy. "Do I have to give you a personal demonstration on just how non-innocent I am?"

Shit. "Not what I meant, Willow." Faith verbally backpedaled, using Willow's full name as a signal of her sincerity. "It ain't time to drag out Miss Black and Freaky. Save her for the vamps and the Hellmouth." She held her breath, not daring to move, waiting for the rising eddies of power to drain away.

A second passed. Two.

"When this is all over, we are so having a conversation about this, Faith," Willow said, sounding unbelievably tired and frustrated. She grabbed her laptop from the table with a lack of care Faith had never witnessed before. "But you're right. I won't fry your ass here. I'll work off some righteous rage on whatever's waiting for us in St. Reginald."

Still not convinced it was safe, Faith remained silent. Willow could get irritated or sarcastic; real anger, though? At what? Her? Her comment about being innocent? Faith didn't know, and she wasn't sure she ever wanted to know. Seeing Willow like this made Faith nauseous and edgy.

Willow closed the front clasp on her computer bag and started wrapping up cords and cables. "I got the information you wanted." Her stiff back reproached Faith, increasing her discomfort. "Juanita has Anshu. They're about two hours behind us."

"What?" The news was unexpected enough to snap Faith out of her funk. "Is Crash tryin' to get arrested?" There was no way they were making up the distance unless Juanita was breaking land speed records.

A tight laugh escaped Willow. "I doubt she'll be arrested, Faith. Not with two detectives in the back seat and a bubble light on the dash."

The words tumbled through Faith's mind without making sense.

"Fin and Stabler." Apparently, Chelsea was up to speed. "Sorry, Faith," Chelsea said, not sounding apologetic at all. In fact, Faith thought she seemed terribly smug. "It looks like you're going to be swimming in cops soon. We all know Liv and the Sarge didn't slink back to Manhattan and now the rest of the family is on the way."

* * *

Surprisingly, Faith didn't snap at Chelsea. She simply and rubbed a hand over her eyes. "Yeah. Good thing I ain't on the Most Wanted List no more." When her hand dropped, Chelsea saw grudging acceptance in Faith's wry smile. "Hope your team's good with a stake, Chief. 'Cause guns won't work where we're headed."

Chelsea started to reply when Nicole and a herd of other young girls ran in. "We're ready, Faith," Nicole announced.

"You all packing?" Faith didn't even glance over her shoulder. Instead, she reached across the table, taking the computer bag from Willow and looping it over one shoulder.

A chorus of "Yes," and a few less polite affirmatives answered the query.

Chelsea marveled at the sudden energy filling the tiny room. How could…. She took a quick headcount. How could fifteen kids give off that kind of power? She expected sparks to starts flying soon.

Nothing visible happened, though, except a lot of shuffling feet when Faith turned to face the group. "Where's the rest of the Juniors, Nic? You lose a few on the stairs?"

"Amy's got them outside, Faith. They've got a couple more cars and weapons. They're loading up." Seeing Nicole in the larger group, Chelsea realized how different the young girl seemed. There was no shuffling. No restlessness. Nicole was composed and focused – and very clearly Faith's second in command.

Almost hesitant to interrupt, Chelsea cleared her throat. Everyone looked at her…and she fought the urge to squirm. "What's the plan when we leave? Are we driving straight to the election site? What about Anshu?"

"It's dark right now." Willow's answered didn't make sense until she continued. "We'll get the girls rounded up and loaded, but we won't drive all the way to St. Reginald. Not until the sun's up, anyway. We'll simply get close enough that the final leg won't take all day."

Sun. Vampires. Chelsea finally made the connection. "Are we sure the vampires won't have backup? I mean, the assumptions seem to be that the only threat is one for Faith and the ki…" Breaking off abruptly, she altered her words when she spotted Nicole's glower at her near faux pas. "…and the other Slayers," Chelsea finished quickly.

"Ah, see? I told you we was out of our league, Chief." Faith resettled Willow's computer bag over her shoulder and caught a dagger one of the girls tossed her way. "Humans ain't usually on our radar. Guess maybe those friends of yours might come in handy."

Chelsea might have celebrated her victory, if Faith's grim expression hadn't clearly indicated that needing their help meant the situation was even worse than before. "If you think a handful of cops aren't a problem anymore, let's get everyone on the same page." Although, even as she made the statement, Chelsea mentally shook her head at just _how_ they would make the explanations to the four detectives on their way. "Fin and Elliot have probably picked up some of the story from Anshu and Juanita. Munch and Liv, though, are still playing hide and seek. Can I give them a call so they can meet us here?"

All of Chelsea's attention focused on Willow and Faith. She knew they'd had trouble accepting _normal_ help before.

They still had trouble. Willow bit her lip and looked away. Faith clenched the dagger in her hand so tightly Chelsea saw her knuckles whiten.

Help came from a completely unexpected avenue, in an unexpected way. "Forgive me, Detective; we cannot allow your colleagues to discover the truth about what we do," Simmons said. He slipped around a group of Junior Slayers and shrugged in obvious discomfort. "It has long been the policy of the Council…"

"Do it, Chief," Faith snapped, overriding Simmons' words. "The fucking Council is _supposed_ to be different now. Guess we ain't made that clear enough."

Not even the Junior Slayers moved – or even breathed – as Faith glared at a red-faced Simmons. Afraid to draw that laser-like look to herself, Chelsea slowly backed toward the cabin's front door and opened it. Cold air surrounded her immediately as she stepped outside and fished her cell phone out of her pocket.

A shadow fell on the tiny screen a heartbeat after Chelsea opened the phone. "Detective, is something wrong?" Amy, recognizable only because of the earlier conference calls, walked toward Chelsea with another group of girls behind her.

"No." Chelsea punched in Liv's speed dial number and listened to the distant ring. "Just needed to make a call," she explained, giving Amy a reassuring smile.

"It's not safe out here, Detective," Amy answered. Her expression firmed and she gestured for two of the girls flanking her to stay. The rest filed inside. All three made a loose semi-circle around Chelsea's position, and even in the dim light she glimpsed the flash of steel as each Slayer drew a weapon.

"Rookie?" Only Munch's voice in her ear kept Chelsea from commenting. Apologizing.

Why couldn't she wrap her head around the danger she was in? "Hey, Sarge." Chelsea heard the frustration in her reply and sucked in a slow, hopefully calming breath before continuing. "Stop playing hide and seek in the trees and come on up to the cabin. We'll fill you in."

* * *

Faith kept her eyes locked with Simmons even after Chelsea made her escape. "Faith, I understand that…" he began in a soft, "let's all be reasonable" tone.

"You understand jack," Faith said curtly. "So let me lay it all out for you. For _all_ of you," she clarified, wanting the Juniors emulating statues around them to understand the new rules, too. "Watchers watch. They teach. They spend lots of time with tea and old books. They _don't_ play God and make stupid decisions without asking their Slayers for opinions."

"And right here, right now…" Willow moved next to Faith, one hand resting lightly on the small of her back. "Faith's opinions are the only ones that count. She's in charge because she has more experience than all of you combined."

It was a nice thought, and Faith's shoulders straightened at Willow's support. However, she couldn't let the statement stand. "I got first call; the rest of you got a chance to talk after that. This isn't the Faith Show." Her lips twitched and she wiggled against Willow's hand. "Ain't even the Dark Girls of SunnyD Show."

A soft snort let Faith know Willow had gotten the inside joke.

"But we sure as hell ain't doin' things the old way. That almost got me and B killed every fuckin' time we went on patrol." Faith tilted her head and cut back on her glare as she addressed Simmons. "You didn't sound like a Tweed when we talked on Red's computer. You brought Amy in and let her do her thing. Don't reach for the crappy tea cup now."

"I have never been fond of tea," Simmons said wryly. "I think, perhaps, it is a remnant of my days at the Watchers' Academy. I shall endeavor to stuff it back into the dark recesses of my mind." He held a hand toward Faith. "My apologies."

Smiling in relief, Faith reached out and took Simmons' hand. "Me, too, Simmons. Didn't mean to sound like B fightin' over a deal at the shoe store. We all got to be in this together." Releasing Simmons, Faith turned away and swept the Juniors with challenging look. "Anybody got a problem with doing more than swinging stakes?"

Most of the Juniors laughed. "You're kidding, right?" Nicole asked, seemingly already the spokesman for the group. "We're may be new at the superhero business, but the thinking…It might be hard to believe, I know. We've been doing _that_ for years."

"Good." Faith relaxed. Things were back under control. "Then use that thinkin' ability on the drive. Our plan right now is that we don't have a plan." Although it had always worked for Faith in the past, she wasn't willing to put all their lives at risk to operate without a net now. "We've got a table full of maps and more cell phones than Giles is ever gonna be comfortable with. One map per car. You think you got a good idea, you call Red or Nic."

A handful of bodies surged for the maps – until Nicole cleared her throat. "Faith didn't say knock each other down on the way." The impatient Junior Slayers froze. "We travel five to a car. That means one of you gets stuck with Faith."

Faith wasn't sure she was happy at the way many of the girls blanched and seemed to shrink back at the thought of being in the lead car.

"Who's volunteering?" Nicole's expression indicated if she didn't see a hand right that second then she'd be drafting the "volunteer." There were a lot of uncomfortable looks and mutters before a short, heavily muscled Junior stepped forward. "Shannon's with us," Nicole said. "The rest of you group up. One person from each group grabs the map. The rest of you head outside and make sure you have a licensed driver and enough weapons and supplies to go around."

Amazingly, the Juniors followed Nicole's orders. They broke into clumps, voices rising as they discussed (argued, in some cases) about seating arrangements. "Wow. If we play our cards right, Nicole can wear the cape and we can sit on a beach somewhere sipping drinks and working on our tans," Willow whispered in Faith's ear. "I'm so OK with that. What about you?"


	36. Chapter 36

Willow on the beach. In a bikini. Faith was more than OK. She was…

Damn it! Silently cursing Nicole for planting crazy ideas, Faith raised an eyebrow. "I don't know, Red. After all that time in SunnyD, I think I hit my limit on sun and sand. You wanna trade the swimwear for ski gear, though, I'll help ya' up the mountain." That was better. Images of Willow, hidden under layers of scarves, hats, and ski suits, were cute – not hormone-inducing hot. Faith slammed the door on a few fantasies involving Ski Willow and a private cabin lit by firelight that lingered in her mind.

"I guess," Willow said, grabbing a map from the table. "I'm not really coordinated, you know. And just because I'm Wiccan doesn't necessarily mean I like hugging trees." A grin crept out as she took Faith's arm and pulled her toward the door. "If I broke something, you'd have to wait on me hand and foot. Think you're up for it?"

"Been tellin' you since the beginning, I got mad skills. I'm always up for…it," Faith teased back. The cold air that surrounded them as they left the cabin made Faith shiver. The sweat slicking her skin turned to ice. "Son of a bitch! It's cold out here. Why couldn't the end of the world happen in the summer?"

Stuffing her hands into her pockets, Faith hunched against the wind and scowled as Willow chuckled. "While we're driving to St. Reginald, Faith, rethink your vacation plans. If _this_ has you whining, I'd hate to listen to you in Aspen." She gently shoved at Faith before trotting ahead to the car.

The comment was uncalled for. Even cruel. Stomping her feet on the frozen ground, Faith stalked after Willow, fighting to keep a frown on her face. "I ain't never telling anyone how nice you are again, Red. Picking on me like that." She crowded close to Willow as if attempting to intimidate her. "I don't _whine_." Of course, Faith couldn't come up with any other way to describe the high-pitched, grating sound of her final teasing comment.

Willow's hands settled under the elastic hem of Faith's hooded sweatshirt. "Really? Sounded like a whine to me. And I'm an expert. I lived with Dawn for years."

"D ain't a Slayer, Red." God, Willow's hands seemed to burn through Faith's jeans, spreading warmth in waves through her body. Unconsciously leaning closer, Faith stared down at Willow's wide smile. "Slayers are different." Her head dropped.

So close. Willow's lips were so close.

Faith froze as a puff of Willow's breath brushed her face. "Faith?" Even Faith could hear the entreaty in Willow's voice.

She heard it. She wanted to respond. Instead, Faith forcibly ignored those enticing lips when her enhanced hearing picked up the crunch of gravel beneath tires on the drive to the cabin. "We've got company," Faith said, and if her voice was rough and frustrated... "Nic! Amy!" Vampires didn't normally arrive in cars, but the specter of Angel behind the wheel of black Plymouth made it a possibility. Faith wanted to be ready.

Seconds later, Junior Slayers poured out of the cabin. Faith saw weapons glinting in the faint moonlight as they fanned out. Their shadowy figures melted into the darkness briefly before the blaze of two headlights spotlighted the area. Shielding her eyes with a hand, Faith squinted at a familiar car. "Fuck. My bad, guys. Stand down. The Chief's friends ain't gonna be happy with all the steel and stakes." They probably wouldn't be any happier with the information she and Chelsea had, either.

Faith made sure the girls at least _looked_ unarmed and waited for Olivia and Detective Munch to get out of the car. It didn't take long. The car coasted to a stop a few feet away and both doors popped open immediately. "Where's Chelsea?" Olivia demanded before she'd even cleared the car.

"Are you always this fuckin' rude?" Faith shot back without thinking. "Get outta the car and take a deep breath. The Chief's in the cabin. I'll have one of the Juniors grab her." She felt slightly ashamed of the stab of pleasure she felt at Olivia's scowl.

"Detectives, why don't you come with us? We all need to talk." Willow appeared at Faith's shoulder, one hand resting on Faith's forearm. "I'm sure the girls can finish packing without us."

Talk. It always came down to talking. Stifling a pained sigh, Faith let Willow pull her back toward the cabin. Junior Slayers cleared a hasty path for them. "Will, we need to get moving," Faith argued softly. "The kids is packing up and there ain't nothin' left in the cabin but Simmons. It's time to go, remember?" The thing about Simmons wasn't entirely true. Faith spotted Nicole and a couple of other Junior Slayers and Chelsea in the main room with Simmons. Still, she thought her point was valid. Chelsea had asked a lot of questions when they'd done the big reveal at her apartment. Faith was sure the two cops behind them would have just as many – if not more. If Willow had wanted to do all the convincing before they left, she should have told Faith.

"Don't worry. I've got it covered." Willow let go of Faith's arm and moved away. "Detective Lake, can you join us?" she called out.

* * *

Chelsea considered her answer. Yes, she _could_ go over and join Willow. Or she could simply stay where she was and avoid what was sure to be an emotional and very difficult conversation with Olivia and Munch. Sighing, she gave in to her better nature and handed the box of books in her hands to the Slayer next to her. "Sorry, it looks like I'm being summoned," she muttered.

"Then you better hurry," the girl answered, eyes flickering to Willow and then back. "I've heard stories about her…" Apparently, the stories were cautionary. "You don't want to keep Willow waiting."

"Uh…" Chelsea wanted to hear what the kid had to say. "Yeah, I guess you're right," she added after a second. She'd have to get the scoop later. Striding quickly across the room, Chelsea watched Munch examine the room. "Hey, Sarge. Put that look away, will you? Save the crusty Bad Cop persona for later."

Her words made one of Munch's eyebrows raise imperiously. "I am _never_ the Bad Cop when Liv is around, Rookie. I was merely noticing the tender age of most of your friends. Is this your secret? The Family dabbles in underage escorts?"

Faith stiffened noticeably and several of the Junior Slayers put down whatever they had been holding. Shit! Chelsea glared at Munch and started to explain.

"Munch, I'm beginning to think all that conspiracy theory crap has rotted your brain," Olivia drawled, beating Chelsea to the verbal punch. "I worked Vice, and I've never seen pros like this. That one?" She pointed at a particularly well-muscled Junior Slayer. "She's built to kick your ass, not kiss it."

The girl smiled. "Got that right." Turning away, she hefted a box onto her shoulder and forcibly shoved another Slayer toward the door.

Relaxing now that things had settled down slightly, Chelsea gestured toward the table behind Willow. "Have a seat. We're about to hit the road again, and there are a few things you need to hear first." Chelsea took her own suggestion and sat down next to Olivia. The rest of the chairs filled up quickly. Even Nicole joined them; although, she seemed uncomfortable with her inclusion in the meeting.

No one spoke at first. They traded glances as the silence grew.

"It looks like I get to break the news," Willow muttered, narrowing her eyes at Faith and Nicole. "Wow. I'm shocked." She sighed and met Munch's eyes. "I'm sorry we had to lie to you the other day, Sergeant. Faith and I – and Nicole… We aren't in New York for a soccer tournament. We're here to protect Detective Lake."

Munch considered the information, elbows on the table and fingers steepled in front of his face. "From the Masuccis?"

"No, Sarge," Chelsea answered. "This isn't about the Mob." Actually, it was. The Mob was simply made up of vampires. Trying again (but leaving out the vampires), Chelsea went on. "Not the Masuccis, anyway. Or any of the big families we're used to." Her explanation stumbled to a halt and she searched for words. "We were on the right track back at the House. It's all about my family…about me."

No one at the table moved. Chelsea could _feel_ them looking at her, though, and she sensed Faith's and Willow's impatience. The Junior Slayers were ready to move. She didn't have time for a long and drawn out explanation.

And that's where Chelsea struggled.

How did she tell two long-time police officers – people she'd known for only a few weeks – that vampires, demons, and things that go bump in the night were real? Not only real, but part of an army that was out to kill her?

Before Chelsea found the right words, Faith found them for her. "An army of vampires is wanting to kill Chelsea," she announced without preamble. "Me and the Juniors are here to make sure that don't happen."

Munch and Olivia gaped at her. Chelsea stared, too. Did Faith really think her blunt statement was going to make this talk any easier?

"It's hard to believe, I know." Willow was there with a self-deprecating smile to back up Faith's outrageous claim. "The first time I heard about vampires, I was in high school. I didn't believe it until one of them tried to make me a late-night snack. It's hard to keep saying vampires aren't real when you have big, nasty, blood-sucking teeth pressed to your throat."

"Let's go, Lake." Olivia stood up and grabbed Chelsea's shoulder. "I've heard enough."

The pressure from her hand urged Chelsea to leave the table. Breaking Olivia's hold, Chelsea resisted. "No. Liv, it sounds crazy. I understand." She wryly remembered her own disbelief in her apartment. "But this is real, and I need your help. We can't do this without you. Faith and Willow think we're outnumbered, that not even Faith and the Junior Slayers will be enough. Elliot and Fin are on their way with Anshu, and I need you and Munch to join the team."

"Stabler's in on this?" They definitely had Munch's attention. "I thought I was your confidante, Chelsea." He stared intently at Chelsea, still seated at the table.

His eyes… Chelsea stared back, ignoring Olivia's tense and impatient form beside her. Munch believed her. She could see it. "You were," she mumbled. "You are." Hope rose, pushing out some of the cold dread weighing down her limbs. "Elliot doesn't know anything yet, Sarge. I wanted you to be the first to know."

"Now that ya' do, can we go? Me and the Junior's got a job to do, and we can't do it sittin' here talking." Faith stood and waved at the girls still frozen in place around the room, watching the tense confrontation. As if her movement was a signal, several of the them bolted for the door.

Bolted for safety, Chelsea thought with an inner chuckle. If she wasn't such a big part of the explanation, she might run, too.

Olivia wasn't going to be so easy to convince as Munch, and she proved it a heartbeat later. "Put your hands where I can see them and step away from the table. Now!" she ordered Faith, one hand dropping to the butt of her gun.

Faith, being Faith, crossed her arms and glowered.

"I'm not going to say it again. Put your hands where I can see them." Olivia's gun cleared its holster.

"You don't put that thing away, and I'm gonna show you about Slayers the way I showed the Chief," Faith said in a low, threatening voice. It was the wrong approach. In Chelsea's experience, Olivia rarely responded well to threats.

This time was no exception. Olivia raised her weapon until it pointed at Faith.

Starting to climb to her feet, Chelsea reconsidered. She was in the line of fire. If she startled Olivia, the firefight might begin. And she sure as hell didn't want to get in the way if Faith decided to do a little demonstration of her skills. She sank back into her chair and waited, tensely, for the scene to play out.

The wait wasn't long.

A cold breeze swirled suddenly, chilling Chelsea and rustling the last of the papers on the table. "You know, I'm all out of peace, love, and understanding, Detective," Willow stated. She didn't stand. She didn't _appear_ to do anything. That didn't mean nothing happened. The breeze grew into a gale force wind. Books and papers flew around the room. The outer door sprang open and closed. "Put the gun away."

Olivia went pale and the gun wavered. She didn't lower it, however.

Chelsea wished Olivia had followed directions. Willow's eyes turned solid blue and her hair lifted from her head. "Don't say I didn't warn you." She raised one hand and pointed an imperious finger at Olivia. A tiny, golf ball-sized blue orb flew from her fingertip and across the table, landing with a soundless explosion on Olivia's gun.

The metal glowed. "Son of a bitch!" Olivia shouted. She pulled her hand from the gun's molded grip and took a step back.

Despite no longer being held, the gun didn't fall to the ground. Instead, it floated several feet off the floor, surrounded by a blue aura. As Chelsea watched, transfixed, the aura expanded and brightened. The gun shimmered for a second. Then it appeared to liquefy, dropping to the floor in a flood of melted and smoking steel.


	37. Chapter 37

The puddle on the floor quit glowing as the rubber grips, the only intact part of Olivia's weapon, splashed into the cooling liquid.

"Sit down, Detective. Now," Willow ordered softly. "We are running out of time, and there are things you need to know." Her eyes were still blue; although, as Chelsea watched, green slowly leeched back in until Willow seemed normal.

Olivia dropped into her chair. "What the hell are you?" Her voice shook noticeably and she sat as far away from the table – and Willow – as possible.

"Red's one of the good guys." Faith smirked slightly. "Just don't keep pissin' her off. Girl's got a temper and plenty of mojo to back it up." The smile disappeared. "I'm gonna say this real fast for you and the Sarge. If ya' got questions, they have to wait for the drive."

Unfortunately for Faith's plan, Munch wasn't as stunned as Olivia. He leaned forward and stared intently at the Slayer. "I don't…"

Faith's hand snapped up. "I said no questions. You're as bad as the Tweeds. Shut up and listen!" she said sharply. "Or I'm gonna haul your ass outside and there won't be _any_ explanation." She waited a second as Chelsea held her breath. Would Munch let Faith dictate the terms?

Apparently so. Munch nodded once and crossed his arms over his chest. "No questions." Then he had to add, "For now."

"That's all I'm asking, Sarge," Faith told him. Glancing at Chelsea, she raised an eyebrow. "You want in on this or are me and Red tellin' the story?"

Chelsea didn't even hesitate to take the out. "It's all you, Faith." If she got involved, the explanation would take hours and probably not make any sense. After all, _Chelsea_ still didn't completely understand (or fully believe) the things happening around her. Olivia and Munch would sense that, and things would go downhill – again – from there.

"Wicked," Faith said dryly. "I'm gonna start and then Red can hit what I miss. The shit happening with the Chief is all because of some prophecy. Me, her, and the vampires got starring roles. For all the newbies at the table, prophecies suck for details. The only people happy to see 'em are Simmons and the Tweed Crew."

Nicole stirred for the first time since the conversation started. "The Tweed Crew are really called Watchers, Detective Munch. They… Well, they do a lot of the research. Prophecies can get them pretty excited," she finished dryly.

"Ain't no lie." Faith and Nicole shared a look before Faith got back on track. "Red and Nic figured out there's an election, a War Lord or something, and the Chief's the only one able to cast the final vote. That's why she's got vampires huntin' her. They probably got their own fav candidate."

When Olivia cleared her throat, Faith stopped talking and watched her carefully.

Chelsea watched, too. While Faith had certainly given a concise summation of their situation, she had done nothing to explain the supernatural forces at play. Olivia wasn't going to accept vampires as a reality without something more concrete. Willow's magic must have convinced her not to push for answers, though. Despite a mutinous expression, Olivia didn't say anything.

"We can't prove that vampires are real. Not here. Not now." Willow picked up the thread of conversation. "They _are_ real, like magic." Her eyes again turned blue. "Faith, Nicole, and those…_escorts_," she mocked Munch's earlier comment, "are called Vampire Slayers. They were created centuries ago to fight and kill vampires and other evil."

Giving up on sitting safely on the sidelines, Chelsea said, "They have powers like Willow's. Not magic." Thank God. "Super strength and speed. Faith didn't exactly turn my gun into a puddle, but it's still as useless. I'm carrying my backup." Meeting Munch's eyes, she pushed back the edge of her coat to show him the weapon. "I've got to be in St. Reginald tomorrow, and we're probably looking at a big fight on the way. Are you in?"

Chelsea didn't expect Munch or Olivia to agree. Not yet. Not until they'd asked their questions – and they had questions. It didn't take training in reading body language to see that.

"If I remember my legends, Chelsea," Munch's use of Chelsea's first name indicated she might have been wrong about his decision, "vampires can't be killed by a mere bullet. Does your personal army, here, have any extra stakes I can use?"

* * *

Without hesitation, Faith pulled a stake from her belt and tossed it across the table. It landed in front of Munch less than a second before one of Nicole's. Faith didn't even have to turn her head to see that every Junior still in the room had a hand out – holding a stake.

"I think one is enough," Munch mumbled and retrieved Faith's stake. For the first time, he seemed to lose composure. Faith watched his long, thin fingers stroke over the wood of his new weapon. When he spoke again, the usual mocking edge was back in his voice. "Benson? How about you? You've got space in your holster now."

The droll comment broke most of the lingering tension. Faith snorted and heard Willow and Nicole giggle. The only one not smiling was Olivia. "This is right down your alley, Munch. Secret warriors against evil. Rigged elections." Hands fisted on the table, Olivia glared at Munch and then turned the look on Faith. "Maybe we all need a long vacation at Bellevue. God knows the last psych eval I had said I was on the edge."

No longer amused, Faith met Olivia's gaze. "My prison shrink said I shoulda been in some loony bin. It don't mean the fucker had a clue."

"So Hollywood has it right?" Some of the aggression faded from Olivia's voice. "Why haven't I seen any of this before now? I've been a cop a long time…"

"Movies are stupid," Faith said with utter certainly. "And I'm bettin' you've seen a lot more than you think. You damn near got nailed by a vamp the other night in the park. Me and Red were there and I tossed a stake right under your nose to dust the blood sucker." She grinned faintly at Olivia's suddenly wide-eyed expression. "You got another reason your bad guy went poof?"

Olivia slowly shook her head. "I should have tried that with the captain. 'Sorry we lost the perp. He got staked and disappeared…'"

It sounded as if Olivia was about to choose sides. Wanting to make sure she picked the right one, Faith said, "You're a cop. You seen enough shit to _know_ evil's real." Faith stopped there. She'd talked far more than she'd intended. Either Olivia was going to join the team right now or they were leaving her behind.

Thanks to the stillness in the cabin, Faith heard the rumble of a car engine spring to life outside and the dull scrape as one of the Juniors shifted nearby.

"Give me a couple of stakes, Munch. My gun's bigger than yours and one skinny piece of wood won't fill my holster," Olivia announced, turning her attention back to Munch.

Faith watched the scene and felt…better. Not exactly happy or hopeful. Just better. "OK, then, boys and girls. You've had Slayer 101. The next lesson's more hands on. Sarge, you and Liv follow our car. We got an extra Junior you can have to make sure ya' don't get lost." Riding with two cops probably rated higher than being stuck in the car with her and Willow in Shannon's mind, anyway. "You run into trouble, use the stakes and aim for the heart. They're gonna be faster and stronger than anything you've seen, and they don't give a fuck that you're cops."

It didn't take long for everyone to stand, and they began to file toward the door. Faith hung back, scanning the room for anything useful they'd left behind. A few books lay in one corner, and Willow's windstorm had scattered some loose papers and pieces of parchment. Nothing they could make into a weapon.

"Faith?" Willow stood in the doorway with her head cocked inquiringly. "Everything OK?"

Leaving the items behind, Faith strode for the door. "Five by five, Red." The trademark phrase worked almost as well as it had in the hotel. Willow looked far from convinced of Faith's sincerity. Heaving a sigh, Faith muttered, "Makin' sure we didn't leave nothin' important. Let's hit the road before Butch Liv decides she oughta be in charge."

"Be careful," Willow said. Faith didn't understand the smile that accompanied the warning until she continued. "If she hears you call her that, I'm not stepping in with more parlour tricks to keep her from shooting you."

Willow stepped in? What was she talking about? "The fireball…" Faith stared at Willow, chest and throat tight. "You said you had a plan, Red." Melting Olivia's gun hadn't been part of Willow's strategy?

Taking Faith's hand and pulling her outside, Willow nodded. "Yep, I did. I was going to get my laptop out and show some of those videos Giles finally made. The ones of you fighting off the M'Fashnik demon." Her smile faltered, not _quite_ disappearing, and Willow looked away. "The fireball just happened."

Faith had been around Willow enough since Sunnydale to know magic didn't simply happen. "Willow, she wasn't going to shoot me." To hell with hurrying to the car. Faith stopped moving, and, thanks to Willow's grip on her hand, Willow stopped moving, too. "I'da had the gun before she pulled the trigger." Probably. Faith hadn't been convinced Slayer speed would beat Olivia's itchy trigger finger at the time. Now, faced with Willow's magical protection, Faith forced herself to at least _sound_ certain. "Don't go all veiny 'cause of me."

Willow's lips pressed together, and Faith waited for her to complain. And waited. After several seconds of silence, she put her free hand under Willow's chin and pulled.

Stubborn green eyes glared at her. "I will if I want to," Willow declared. "I don't care if you're a Slayer, Faith. Detective Benson can't threaten you and get away with it. You didn't have a weapon; you just told her something she didn't want to hear. I won't be so nice the next time she – or anyone else – tries it again."

Warmth pierced Faith's palm where it pressed into Willow's chin. As she stared at Willow, the warmth grew and spread until it suffused her entire body. "Willow," she said softly, "did you…are you…?" Lost in Willow's eyes, in the sheer emotion there, Faith faltered.

"I wanted to wait," Willow answered. "I told myself you had to be the one to make the first move." She stepped closer and turned her head, lips pressing gently into Faith's palm. "Damned detective, ruining all my plans."

Through their contact, Faith felt Willow's smile. "You woulda waited a long time." Faith curled her suddenly stiff and uncoordinated fingers tighter around Willow's chin. "I didn't know, Willow. Even Nic saw…this." What should she call it? Faith understood, now, that what she felt for Willow was more than mere friendship. What she _didn't_ know, _couldn't_ know, thanks to her past, was what their relationship had become.

Willow raised her head. "Nicole is very smart, for a Slayer." Faith watched Willow's smile turn into a grin and inch closer. And closer.

When Willow's lips touched hers, Faith felt the world split. On one level, she was aware of the biting cold and the utter absurdity of playing out the most important moment of her life in front of a group of gaping Juniors and Chelsea's cronies.

On the other…Faith couldn't think. She could only feel. Willow's lips were so soft, so sure. They opened, and Faith automatically mimicked the move. In a heartbeat, Willow's tongue slipped inside her mouth and Faith gasped. Pure sunlight seemed to pour into her, heating, warming, and cleansing every part of her heart and soul. The inner light remained, even when Willow slowly pulled away. "Will…" Don't leave, Faith tried to say.

The words were cut off when Willow pressed a single finger over her lips. "I'm not going anywhere," she said, almost as if she heard Faith's unspoken plea. "Well," Willow continued with a wide smile, "I _am_ going. So are you. To the car." She stepped backward, never releasing Faith from her stare. "We have a vampire army to beat and then we are _so_ going to revisit this, Missy."

It was such a Willow-type comment that Faith rolled her eyes. "Revisit? After dustin' an army, we'll be doin' more than visitin'. More like movin' in. You been around long enough to know the HHs, Red. You ready for that?"

Willow's eyes were dark and soft. "Wait and see, Faith. Wait and see." Winking, she turned and strode to the car.

Faith waited for a second as the world around her trembled. What was she doing? Fighting vampires was her job. No problem. Starting something with Willow? All new. Definitely a problem.

"If you aren't in the car in ten seconds, we're leaving without you," Willow called out. "And then you won't get to see what I'm ready for."


	38. Chapter 38

Even though Faith knew Willow was probably teasing, the jibe spurred her into a trot. All around, the rest of the stragglers picked up their own pace. Faith didn't pay attention. The Juniors might be green, but they all understood their jobs – kill vampires and stay alive. The cops didn't understand anything and wouldn't until the vampires started looking for a snack. For now, everyone was on their own. She had other things to think about.

Actually, only one thing. Willow.

Slipping behind the wheel of the rental car, Faith started the engine on auto-pilot. "Did I break you?" Willow asked, with laughter edging her voice.

"I hope not." Nicole leaned over the back seat, and Faith saw her grin reflected in the rearview mirror. "You may think I'm ready to lead, but… Nope. Not yet. This is Faith's party; she's the only Slayer with a real invitation to the party."

Life couldn't get any worse. Faith scowled at the teasing, an unaccustomed blush scalding her cheeks. She rammed the gearstick into drive and stomped on the accelerator. Gravel spewed from beneath the tires and the car fishtailed for a second before she brought it under control.

"Looks normal from my end," Chelsea said, jumping on the bandwagon. "I mean, does Faith ever smile? Or drive better than a cabbie trying to make JKF before his fare's flight?"

There were going to be permanent indentations on the steering wheel from Faith's grip.

"Hmm, if I didn't know better, I'd say frustration makes for a very cranky Slayer." The laughter was still in Willow's voice. She wasn't even trying to hide it. "Maybe that was always Buffy's problem," she continued thoughtfully – as Faith fought to keep the car on the road and her jaw off the floorboard. "I'll have to ask Giles the next time I talk to him. Surely there's something in all those Watcher's Diaries about the phenomenon."

Nicole snorted. "Make sure to tape that conversation – if he doesn't die from a heart attack the second you ask." She flung herself back into the seat. "You know, it's too bad we can't head back to the city and keep teasing Faith. She's kinda funny when her face turns red and her eyes bug out."

"I'll show you funny," Faith muttered; although, she was sure her blush was still in place and her eyes _did_ feel a bit wider than normal. Her grip on the wheel eased after a minute, though. She was getting used to the constant verbal poking. Not to mention Nicole hadn't exactly sounded lighthearted by the time she'd finished her final comment. Fun time seemed to be over. Faith added one last jab to prove she was still in the game. "'Sides, my eyes don't 'bug out.' I was concentratin' on the road." That was better. She could handle this with practice.

"Concentrate on getting us all to the voting site safely," Chelsea corrected. "It was bad enough when I knew I was the one with a bull's eye on my back. Now I've got Munch and Liv sharing the danger."

Faith noticed there was no mention of how likely it was that she, Willow, or the Juniors would be in the line of fire, too. Good. Maybe Chelsea was ready to stop fighting her over every decision. "Your crew is backup, Chief. They only get to come off the bench if the rest of us are dead."

"That wasn't the impression I got earlier," Chelsea pointed out – and Faith silently cursed her stellar memory. "You didn't want them around until the odds got bad."

Stalling for time, Faith made a production out of checking the side and rearview mirrors for the rest of the team's cars. "You ain't at the same table. The odds're bad, yeah. But we're stacking the deck. That's why Liv and the Sarge are followin'. They won't be in the front; they'd be dead. We keep 'em in the back…just in case." It was an overstatement. Faith had no idea how many vampires were waiting for them. For all she _did_ know, the two clueless cops behind them might be in the thick of the fighting the second they hit St. Reginald. She didn't say that to Chelsea; the Chief had enough to worry about. Besides, there was still a minuscule chance Faith was wrong about the situation at the voting site.

Unfortunately, Chelsea was too smart for the snow job – and she let Faith know, in no uncertain terms. "Bullshit."

The succinct assessment made Faith chuckle. "Yeah, it is. I was tryin' to make you feel better. You must be special. I don't do that for just anybody… Guess I won't waste time on that again. It'll be grumpy Faith all the way."

"Whoo hoo," Willow uttered in a voice only Faith and Nicole would be able to hear. Glancing across the front seat, Faith saw Willow wink at her. "My favorite."

Blushing was going to get old. Fast. Faith still winked back, ignoring the soft gagging from the back seat. "Since I'm back to bein' me, Chief, we need a plan in a hurry. Don't think it will take more'n two, maybe three hours, to get to the voting place. Sunlight's a plus, but it won't be enough."

"Especially not with all the buildings. If the vampires hide inside, it'll be like shooting fish in a barrel. I could probably do something to make us harder to see," Willow said. "Invisibility is out; too much of an energy drain. If I refract the light a little and do some sort of camouflage spell, we might blend enough for them to miss us."

"You…you can do that?" Chelsea appeared pale when Faith looked in the rear view mirror.

Willow didn't respond immediately, and Faith watched Chelsea fidget. "I said probably," Willow admitted with a shrug. "New spells – especially complex ones – don't always work as planned. It's _theoretically _possible."

Faith didn't think that's what Chelsea had in mind with her question. "Red's wicked powerful, Chief," she said and watched Chelsea nod. "Any other options? We're gonna need the mojo for the big battle, I'm thinkin'. Won't do us much good if you're out for the count," Faith continued, directing her comment to Willow.

"Point taken." Biting her lip, Willow turned her head to stare out the window. "This is out of my experience. Research, I can do. Magic, I can do. Plan a battle…"

* * *

It was a familiar refrain. None of the kids in this car, in _any_ of the cars, had experience with what lay ahead. Chelsea swallowed hard, nearly gagging on the sour taste of bile. Blindly fumbling with the map she'd stuffed in her coat pocket, Chelsea marshaled her frantically racing mind. If her bodyguards couldn't find a safe way in, she would.

Unfortunately, the roads and buildings hadn't changed since the last time Chelsea had looked at the printed map. Coming in on New York 37 was their only option unless they hopped out of the car and hiked through the woods, and this wasn't a weekend vacation. Chelsea grew up in the city; even hardened New Yorkers understood that lots of trees equaled shade.

Shade meant vampires.

Digging her cell phone out, Chelsea snapped it open and punched Fin's number on her speed dial. "Yo, Rookie. This better be good. I can't believe I'm stuck in a car out in the boonies. Not to mention the kid and the old guy in the back."

"You haven't seen boonies yet." It was hard to tease when you weren't in the mood, Chelsea realized. She gave up on niceties altogether. "I need to talk to Anshu."

Fin grunted in her ear, but Chelsea heard the rustle as he handed over the phone. "Chelsea, is everything all right?"

Hardly. Repressing a snort, she answered, "We're heading to the election site now. I've got maps of the area. Is 37 the only way in?" It sounded stupid. The maps indicated one, and only one, main road in the area.

"It is the only paved road, yes." Anshu didn't sound as bewildered as Chelsea had expected. "However, there are other places you will not find on your maps. Small, dirt tracks the tribe uses for farm equipment and livestock."

It was perfect, except… "Through the wooded areas?" Chelsea asked, already sure of his answer.

"Most of them. Tribal lands are well forested. We work hard to maintain a balance with Nature, even in modern times," Anshu said.

The Mohawk history lesson would have to wait. "Look, we have a problem. You've talked with…Juanita," Chelsea said, thinking hard to recall the name of the Junior Slayer in the car with Anshu. "You know we've probably got vampires waiting for us. Trees give us – and them – shelter. We can't go in the main route. Where _can_ we go?" And not get killed? "Faith wants to set up in a house right on the edge of the peninsula."

"Balik's home." There was silence on the other end of the line, and Chelsea shifted impatiently. "Do you not intend to go to the tribal hall?"

Damn it. Chelsea closed her eyes and lightly banged her head against the passenger-side window. They hadn't given him that information. Juanita hadn't been there for Nicole's "find." "No. Sorry. It's a good bet the vampires will be there waiting. From what we've been able to find," she felt only moderately embarrassed at that particular overstatement of her role, "nothing says I have to make my selection there."

"I will alert the remainder of our kin to move to that location as soon as we have a solution to your arrival." Anshu's calm, level voice helped Chelsea regain her composure. "There is only one other way through St. Reginald that might prove safe. It will not help you completely avoid the normal road onto tribal lands; however, if you go to where McGrath and Sheldon meet, there is a dirt road. It skirts the edges of several farms and wooded areas. You will not be _in_ the trees, only near."

Chelsea saw Faith stiffen and turn her head, apparently listening to her conversation with Anshu. Not everyone in the car had super hearing – or memory. Hastily marking the spot Anshu had mentioned on her map, she made an encouraging noise to prod him to continue.

He took the hint. "The path will take you along the edge of the river on the west side of the peninsula, limiting the threat from at least one direction," Anshu said softly. "I will have as many people along the route to assist you as I can."

"Thank you." Chelsea had been a police officer for several years. The Brotherhood in Blue had been her family. Now, though, the amazing feel of _real_ family pushed away her fear of the immediate future. "I'll…I'll see you soon," she nearly whispered before closing the phone. For a brief second, she floated on the continued, invisible support Anshu had offered.

And then Chelsea got back to the business of staying alive. "I'm sure Faith and Nicole heard the new plan, Willow. I'll fill you in while Nicole starts the Slayer Phone Tree." She smiled at the wrinkled nose and dramatic sigh she received from Nicole. "Here's what we've got…"

The explanation to Willow didn't take nearly as long as it took Nicole to contact each of the cars in their cavalcade. Chelsea had enough free time to lose the confidence she'd gained from Anshu. Each mile marker sign tightened an invisible noose around her neck.

"You gonna be OK back there, Chief? Lookin' kinda pale." Faith _had_ to notice Chelsea's growing anxiety. "Somethin' on the call I missed?"

"No." The refusal was curt, and Chelsea grimaced before rubbing her hands up and down the legs of her pants. "I…"

Faith laughed. "You're freakin'. It happens."

It shouldn't happen, Chelsea silently answered. She was an experienced police officer; fear was normal. Complete and total panic was not. To sidestep anymore discussion of the topic, Chelsea said, "Now that we know a way in, do we have a clue how I'm supposed to cast my vote? Is there some special ballot box or do I just call out a name?"

"Fuck, Chief, do you even know who's on the short list?" Faith fired back.


	39. Chapter 39

The question hung in the air, mocking Chelsea. It had good reason. She had no idea who was on the ballot for War Leader. Nor, she realized with further thought, did she know _how_ to cast the vote. Images of the shells, the wampum, Munch had used to track down her heritage floated before Chelsea's eyes. Were those the official ballot?

"Chief?" Faith prodded Chelsea out of her distraction.

Reaching for her cell phone again, Chelsea met Faith's gaze in the rear view mirror. "I'm really glad I have unlimited minutes."

The car erupted in laughter. "We don't. Just wait until this is over. Giles will be calling to get your opinion on cell carriers," Willow managed to get out between giggles. "I think we blew our minutes before we even tracked you down."

Chelsea smiled slightly. "You get me through this, I'll even pay the bill." Then, dialing Fin's number again, she settled back into the seat and quickly made a mental list of questions to ask Anshu.

It was a short list. Really short.

"Yes?" Either Anshu had never given the phone back or Fin had recognized Chelsea's number and handed over the phone.

"I need information," Chelsea said bluntly. "And I don't have a clue what to ask."

Anshu didn't respond.

Hand tightening around the phone, Chelsea tried to control a sudden surge of anger. Damn it. He knew this was new to her; knew she was going into the fight blind. Why couldn't he make this easier by helping out? "I'm supposed to elect a War Leader," she said, stating the obvious. "How? Who?"

* * *

Although Faith was interested in the conversation between Chelsea and Anshu, she let their voices fade into the background. The vote was all Chelsea's. She and the Juniors were only there to provide protection. It was time to start setting that up. A quick glance into the back seat showed Nicole still explaining the route into St. Reginald to one of the other cars.

Letting go of the steering wheel, Faith caught Nicole's attention by waving at her. "Hang on, Paula" Nicole told the Junior Slayer on the other end of the line.

"How many of the kids've you called?" The road ahead was clear, yet Faith couldn't turn her eyes away from the pavement. She couldn't risk meeting Nicole's gaze. She couldn't risk letting the younger Slayer see…

"Only two. I think we've all been hanging around Willow too long. It's all questions and more questions." Nicole chuckled and then held the phone away from her ear so that Faith clearly heard Paula's sarcastic response.

Her laughter choked off as Willow pointed a finger in her direction and warned, "Just for that, I might turn you into a frog."

Faith wanted to join in the fun. She wanted to forget, for just a minute, that she was in charge and that an army of demons waited for them at the end of the drive. "Put the finger away, Red." Some of her tension must have leaked out because Willow sat up straight and Faith felt her staring. "We gotta figure the rest of this out."

"I'll call you back," Nicole mumbled into the phone despite a loud protest from Paula. Scooting forward, she peered hesitantly at Willow and Faith. "I…I thought we had a plan."

They did. A good one. Only, the closer they got to St. Reginald, the more Faith understood that there had been a flaw in the original strategy. "Yeah, we do." The agreement was quiet and sober. "Got some holes, though, Nic. If we all go in one way, and the vamps find us…" Letting the words trail off, Faith waited to see if Nicole understood.

The pale face and wide eyes in the rear view indicated Nicole was, as usual, quick on the uptake. "Oh," she mumbled. "I guess…I guess we didn't think about that."

"Gonna have to do it now." Faith shifted her suddenly damp palms against the wheel and continued. "We got two cars you ain't called. Who's in 'em?" She only vaguely remembered Nicole ordering the crew to pack the cars with at least one older Junior Slayer. Hopefully, each car also had at least one seasoned fighter.

Nicole hesitated only a second. Then, with Willow-esque speed, she answered. "Paula, Kinsey, Amy, Shauna, and Tanya are in the first car."

Faith raised a hand before Nicole went on. "Hold on, Nic. I don't know most of the kids in that car." She hated to admit that. It was her _job_ to know them all. "Tell me everything ya' got on 'em."

With Chelsea's conversation providing background noise and a growing sense of urgency straining her control, Faith listened as Nicole followed her command. "If…If you're thinking what I'm thinking you're thinking, we're in luck. The reason you don't know most of them is because they've been out in the field working with Simmons and some of the older Watchers. Amy is Simmons' lead Slayer. Kinsey's the youngest."

As the miles between the cars and St. Reginald disappeared, Nicole relayed every piece of information she had on the ten Junior Slayers. Faith took careful mental notes. Her decision was made, had _been_ made even before she knew the details about the kids in those last two cars. When Nicole finally fell silent, she realized Chelsea was no longer talking, either. She was also listening to Nicole. Maybe, just maybe, there was a chance Faith wouldn't have to give the order. "Chief?" That single word was an unspoken plea.

It was a plea Chelsea didn't hear. "I've got the details on the election process. We have to go to the tribal hall," she said.

Son of a bitch! Faith barely kept from screaming. She was so busy wrestling with her anger that she almost missed the rest of Chelsea's explanation. "I don't have to do the vote there, but apparently I have to have a particular string of wampum. Shells," she clarified, probably sensing Faith's confusion and barely caged frustration, "and some ceremonial staff. Anshu said they're locked in a special box at the center of the main hall."

Slowly, the words sank in. Faith still wasn't happy, though. "We ain't got to go anywhere 'cept that house, Chief," she said shortly. Using her continued anger as a buffer, Faith shoved aside her doubts about her change in plans. "You have to be alive to vote. That means you and me and most of the kids're goin' straight there." She couldn't hide from her choices any longer. Faith forced the next words out. "I've got two cars of Juniors who can pick up your toys for ya', soon as Nic calls 'em."

No. No, that wasn't right. Faith reconsidered immediately. Nicole wasn't making those calls.

"Nic, give me the phone," she said. "I wanna do the talkin', explain the way this is gonna work." Actually, talking to the other Slayers was the very _last_ thing Faith wanted to do. She had to, though. It was her job. She was the lead Slayer; the Juniors looked to _her _to teach them, to keep them safe.

When Nicole handed the phone over the back of the seat, Faith gripped it tightly. It was already ringing, and, as a voice answered, she realized she had no idea what to say. "Hello?" the voice repeated. "Nicole?"

"No." Faith coughed. "It's Faith. Uh, Paula, right?" It was a shot in the dark. Faith didn't recognize the voice; she only hoped Nicole had fulfilled her promise and returned her call to Paula.

"Oh, hey." Now it was Paula coughing and clearing her throat. "Hey, Faith. I thought…I thought Nicole was calling. Is everything OK? Where are we heading? Nicole didn't have time to give us directions."

No, Nicole hadn't. "Yeah, that's why I called, kid." Damn it. Not kid. Not anymore. Not with what Faith was about to do. "Look, Paula, we got a problem. I need you and the rest of your Juniors to take care of it for me," she said seriously. "You up for that?"

"What do you need?" Paula's voice was steady and confident – if Faith ignored the slight quaver at the end.

"I'm gonna call Liz here in a minute. You and her…" Faith stopped and waited for the burning lump in her throat to settle. "The Chief needs some shit from the tribal hall. A box sittin' in the middle of the main room, waitin' for you." Paula sucked in a breath, and Faith interrupted. She had to get the next part out before she changed her mind. "The vamps are gonna be all over the place. You gotta go in hot and hard and be ready for a fight. Soon as you got the gear, call and head for that house Nic picked out. Got it?"

The breathing on the other end of the line had quickened. Oh, yeah. Paula got it. Her quiet, resolute, "We're on it, Faith," merely verbalized what Faith had already known. The Juniors were short on experience, but none of them were lacking courage.

"Ain't got any doubts you can handle this," Faith said, even though she did. If even _one_ carload of Juniors made it to the safe house, it would be a miracle.

"I'll call Liz," Paula offered. "Where are you guys going to be?"

Faith's eyes closed, blotting out the highway for a second. "We're takin' another route," she finally responded. "Don't worry about us. We got the Chief, and we're gonna work on gettin' her to the safe house in one piece. We'll be waitin' for ya' when ya' get there."

The phone closed with a click and then dropped out of Faith's nerveless fingers.

No one said anything, and Faith was glad. One wrong word or sound and the last thread of her control would snap.

* * *

Faith's final words echoed in Chelsea's ears, their meaning hitting her like a bullet to the heart. She was the reason that Faith and Willow, the best fighter and the only magic user, weren't on the team headed to the tribal hall. Ultimately, she would be the reason some – if not all – of those Junior Slayers didn't survive the battle.

For an instant, Chelsea feared she would vomit. A tearing, choking pain ripped at her throat and her stomach heaved. She gritted her teeth and held her breath until the urge to throw up ebbed. The effort left Chelsea cold and clammy with sweat. Laying her head against the back of the seat, she closed her eyes and pretended to sleep.

No matter how much Chelsea wanted to rail against Faith's decision, she couldn't. If the Junior Slayers and the signs of her office didn't reach the safe house in time for the elections, Chelsea would still try to vote. She would still be there to defy the rival clan. Going to the tribal hall personally, or even allowing Faith and Willow to do so, put Chelsea in danger. If _she_ were to die, then any hope for halting the vampires' plan would be lost.

It didn't make sitting silent in the back seat of the car any easier. In fact, sitting there was the hardest thing Chelsea had ever done.

"Don't," Nicole said softly.

Chelsea looked at her and blinked against the burn of tears. "Don't what?" she asked just as quietly; although, there was an edge of bitterness. Don't wish that this entire trip was a dream? Don't pray that she'd wake up to find Nicole and the other kids in the cars were safe and sound and playing in a soccer tournament?

"We knew the risks, Detective. Stop blaming yourself for whatever happens in St. Reginald." Nicole turned and put a hand on Chelsea's knee, and Chelsea realized for the first time how callused and strong it was. "Back when Willow did the spell that turned us all into active Slayers, we had a choice. Go home and try to forget or stay and fight…"


	40. Chapter 40

Obviously, Nicole had chosen to stay. With their current situation looming, her decision might mean a very messy – and final – ending. "Why?" Chelsea asked, intrigued. "Why do this? Why risk getting killed when you could be a normal teenager?"

Nicole didn't answer right away. She stared absently at the spot where her hand rested on Chelsea's leg. "It wasn't because I always dreamed of running through cemeteries with a stake, Detective. Before the spell, I wasn't interested in running at all. Or sweating, for that matter. Southern belles concentrate on looking good and finding the right husband." Drawl deepening with every word, Nicole continued. "But once Mr. Giles explained things, and I saw my first vampire…"

"There ain't nothing like it, Chief," Faith picked up. "The feeling, the _power_. The first time a vamp goes poof, you don't want to stop. It's better'n drugs or booze." Her grin lit up the car, even reflected in the rearview mirror. "Fuck, it's almost as good as sex."

Willow's head whipped around at that. "You are so not doing it right, then," she said tartly.

Stifling a chuckle, Chelsea went back to her questioning. She wanted to know – and it kept her mind off what lay ahead in St. Reginald. "I'll buy that." It wasn't much different than most cops felt about snapping cuffs on a perp. "Still, being a Slayer, killing vampires… It doesn't pay the bills. You can't tell anyone what you do. What do you get, other than the rush?"

Again, Nicole sounded too mature for her age when she responded. "I do this because it's the right thing to do. I do it because I can; I was _bred_ for it. If I didn't, lots of people would die. What about you, Detective. You may not skulk in cemeteries, but the danger is the same. Why are you a cop?"

Chelsea was ashamed to admit her motivation had been far less altruistic when she'd applied to the Academy. "It isn't the same," she said vaguely and then sighed. Nicole was putting her life on the line to keep Chelsea safe. She deserved a better answer. "I met a recruiter my last year in college. Nothing else appealed." The last sentence was a mutter.

"You must be good at what you do," Willow said with a smile. "And I don't think you'd have chosen Special Victims if all you needed was a job. _Those_ police officers ended up in Sunnydale, land of incompetence and denial. I can't see you slouched behind a desk, eating doughnuts and slurping down coffee."

That got a laugh out of Chelsea. "I probably shouldn't tell you about the box of doughnuts delivered to the squad room every morning."

Winking, Willow said, "Well, I guess I won't hold it against you this time." She yawned, one slender hand covering her mouth. "Goddess, I'm tired. Does it sound terrible when I say I'll be happy when this is all over?"

It was terrible – and Chelsea understood completely. The waiting was getting to her. Hell, even the roomy back seat of the car suddenly seemed too small. "How does this all work when we get to St. Reginald? I can't vote until I have the staff and wampum."

"Wish I could say the waitin' would be easy, Chief." Faith didn't glance back as she spoke. "It don't matter how secret this road is, the vamps're gonna find out we're in town, and they're gonna come lookin' for us. As soon as they do, the fight's on."

Willow, still leaning against the passenger door, chimed in. "Since the Flint, or whoever has been killing off the tribes, haven't set off any alarms by only operating at night, we've probably got a few humans mixed in with the vampires. There might be a witch, too. Magic battles equal fireworks. And we haven't even tried to locate the Hellmouth, if one exists. That's the biggest unknown." She must have sensed or seen Chelsea's ballooning unease. "Don't worry, though. You'll be protected. Just stand back and let us take care of things."

It was the last thing Chelsea wanted to hear. Stand back. She was a cop. _She_ was the one who ran toward danger. _She_ was the protector – and Chelsea chafed under the knowledge that this time was different. "Got it," she said with as little obvious frustration as possible. Willow wasn't at fault.

* * *

Chelsea was about to break. Faith recognized all of the signs. "The plan steppin' on your butch toes, Chief?" Only Slayer reflexes blocked the finger Willow tried to poke into her side at the mocking question. Faith wasn't backing down, not even for Willow. Her methods might be brutal, but they were effective. Pretty soon, Chelsea would be too pissed to be upset about hiding behind them. "I bet you and Liv spend a lotta time proving who's top dog, huh?"

As if Faith had flipped a switch, Chelsea's morose expression disappeared. She leaned forward, hands gripping the back of the front seat so tightly her fingers sank into the fabric. "You…" she began to say.

"Oh, would you please stop?" Willow snapped. Breaking all safety laws, she removed her seatbelt and scooted closer to Faith. "She's baiting you, Detective. I thought you'd be familiar with the technique. Don't you do the same thing when you interview suspects?"

Faith enjoyed the flush that tinted Chelsea's already dark skin. She didn't have long to gloat, though. Willow shifted her glare and the side of Faith's head suddenly felt hot. "And I thought I told you earlier to stop pushing people's buttons? Are you deaf? Or just too busy proving your own butch status to listen?" The burn intensified as Willow paused for a breath. "Let me make it very clear. When it comes to Alpha Butch status," she continued (and Faith was sure butch wasn't really the word Willow wanted to use), "I win hands down."

"Yes, Butch…I mean, Boss." Faith couldn't let Willow's comment pass, not even to alleviate the glare about to set her hair on fire.

"Just you wait. I'll show you boss," Willow murmured, and the laser stare got hotter. This time, though, Faith wanted to get lost in the heat. Her eyes slid partially closed and was it her imagination that Willow inched across the front seat?

Sudden bumping and a teeth-grinding whir filled the car.

Chelsea lunged forward again, coming across the front seat and pulling the steering wheel to the left. "You two want to save the bad porn movie routine until after St. Reginald? I'd like to have a small chance of making this vote and going home; stop drooling and concentrate on driving!"

Faith's response was automatic. "I ain't drooling," she snapped and regained control of the car. The whir stopped as she moved the vehicle off the rumble strip and back into the lane. Even as the smooth ride resumed, she was afraid there just might be a drop or two spit dripping from her lips. God, Willow was… She was… A warning rumble kept Faith from finishing her thought and she once again put the car back on the road.

The intense concentration on the lane markers gave Faith a headache – it also managed to keep her mind too occupied for any fantasies of fuzzy sweaters and red hair. A sign ahead provided some relief. "Get ready for the main event, kiddies." St. Reginald was only twenty miles away. "It's show time." Not that there was much any of them could do. Faith sat straighter in the seat, though, and scanned the nearby fields with renewed intensity.

She heard Nicole open her cell phone. "Hey, Amy," Nicole said.

The younger girl was good. Faith didn't bother listening to the call. Nicole would get the rest of the troops in line. "Red, you figure out what mojo to use?" Thanks to the increasing adrenaline rush, she trusted herself enough to actually look at Willow and to ignore the urge to caress the lip Willow chewed energetically.

"I've got a few things. The sunlight spell may be old hat, but it's effective. And I think I can dampen all the Slayer signatures." A tight smile did nothing to mute Willow's obvious tension. "Why bother to use a secret road and then put a flashing neon Slayer sign over the cars?"

Faith knew Willow was an overachiever. Two tricks barely scratched the surface of her power. "What else?"

Instead of answering, Willow shrugged and shifted.

"Red?" Damn it. This wasn't the time for a return to Shy Willow. Faith would enjoy that particular fantasy when the vampires waiting for them were piles of ash. "Get your shit together before we end up dead," she said bracingly. Motivational speeches weren't Faith's forte so she stuck with what she knew. "We're gonna need more than sunburned vamps."

"I…I know." Willow shut the lid of her laptop and pushed it gently onto the floorboard. "The rest is experimental. I don't know if…if they'll all work and I don't want to get your hopes up." Her smile appeared more genuine, and Faith caught a glimpse of the tip of Willow's tongue between her teeth. "No one will think I'm a badass witch if I blow the spells, you know."

Loss of reputation. Faith nodded her understanding. "Think of it like this, Red. You blow the spells and you ain't gonna have to worry about being Dark Willow to the kids. We'll all be dead." Willow's smile disappeared, and Faith missed it immediately. "Buffy was a pain in the ass, but the girl had a point. Stayin' alive's on the top of my list."

"Mine, too," Willow fired back. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes flashed.

Faith wanted to pull the car over, shove Chelsea and Nicole out, and introduce Willow to the joys of back seat love. Willow looked amazing, fired up and ready to fight.

"We're pushing my limits, Faith," Willow continued as Faith grappled with very non-vamp-filled images. "Slayer-spell notwithstanding, I haven't been Magic Girl since Sunnydale. I dabble. You could say I even dribble I use so little power. The last time I did something other than parlour tricks, the Magic Shop ended up a pile of rubble and I suffered a nearly-permanent dye job."

"Still better than the Big House." Faith didn't hide her own fears of the past as she met Willow's eyes for a split second. "But if it takes the Dark Twins to keep the Chief alive, that's what we do. Stop whinin' and start plannin'. I wanna see blue flames and shit by the time we get to St. Reginald," she ordered.

For the second time in less than two hours, Faith thought _she_ was going to become Willow's next victim. "Fine! Just fine! I'll pull out all the stops." Willow waved her hand dramatically and Faith expected the requested flames to shoot from her fingertips. They didn't. The flames were all verbal. "You want to see magic; I'll give you the best I've got."

"That's my girl," Faith responded – and it was only partially a taunt.

"Grr…" Willow's lips twitched and she settled against the passenger seat with her arms crossed. "I don't like you. You know that, right?"

The words didn't hurt. In fact, Faith laughed. "Like that's new. If ya' want to think them vamps all look like me when ya' blow 'em up, go for it, Red. Hell, you can take your best shot at me when we're done. I owe you at least one good try." She took one hand off the wheel and pointed at Willow, intending to continue their sparring.

That's when Faith's senses screamed their first warning. Nicole gasped audibly, and Faith heard her cell phone drop to the seat with a soft thud.

"Everyone's ready," Nicole announced through the waves of crawling evil battering at Faith. "Paula's group is breaking off at the next exit, and the group coming in from Canada is on the water."

Everyone was ready, Faith repeated to herself. That meant _she_ had to be ready. According to the prophecy, it was her turn to have a date with destiny. "Wicked. Ain't been a good apocalypse in, like, two fucking months. I'm itchin' for some action." Pressing harder on the gas pedal, Faith pushed the car to the upper edge of the speed limit.


	41. Chapter 41

In the rear view mirror, Faith saw all the other cars pull in close. All the cars except one. That car swerved into the left lane and zipped by, the blue light on the hood furiously blinking.

"Let Liv and Munch lead," Chelsea said before Faith had a chance to complain about the escort. "If we _do_ happen to run into any local cops, the light – and radio communication – will keep us moving. And we're trained in combat driving."

Combat driving. A nice description of what lay ahead. Faith nodded tersely. "Got it, Chief." Stepping back from the lead role was hard; it didn't matter she'd never wanted the spot in the first place. The only important thing now was keeping Chelsea, and as many of the Juniors as possible, alive. Faith set her teeth and put the bumper of her rental car a few inches from the unmarked police car.

The remaining miles to St. Reginald disappeared as Faith's attention remained focused on the strobing dome light in front of them. When Olivia's car suddenly turned off the main highway, only Slayer reflexes allowed Faith to follow. The rental car fishtailed violently for a minute while she fought the wheel.

* * *

"Maybe I should drive." Chelsea braced one hand against the roof of the car and used the other to catch Nicole as she slid along the back seat. She was only partly serious; all of the earlier talk had, if nothing else, shown just how determined Faith and her crew were about keeping Chelsea safe. Sitting behind the wheel with nothing more in front of her than glass wasn't the safest place to be.

There was no answer. Faith appeared too busy staying on the road to talk.

Feeling helpless – and hating it – Chelsea settled back against the seat. The car was back in the lane, and she noticed Faith's knuckles were no longer white as she gripped the wheel. The tension in the car hadn't faded, though. It was a living, breathing presence. Chelsea was used to stress. She was used to the sick, twisting feeling in her stomach before a raid.

Somehow, it was all different now. Crazy perps with guns… Dangerous, yet normal. An army of supernatural creatures? All new and not so wonderful. Reaching inside her coat, Chelsea stroked the smooth wood of the stake in the inside pocket. What would it feel like to slam this home into a body? For an instant, a vivid image of the stake sliding through skin and muscle and bone, accompanied by the phantom impact of the killing blow, transported Chelsea out of the car.

The sound of Willow chanting ended Chelsea's nightmare. Her relief was short-lived. While there was no imaginary vampire in its death throw, the air around Willow began to glow. And then turn red.

"I hate it when she does that," Nicole muttered. She edged closer to Chelsea, expression uneasy. "I can feel the magic; makes brain itch."

Personally, it made Chelsea's skin crawl. Her brain insisted she should open the car door and leap out despite how fast the car was moving.

Willow's voice rose until the words echoed in Chelsea's ears in an unintelligible shout.

And that was when the day got weird. With each new word, the light in and around the car dimmed and wavered. The red glow grew, darkening and appearing to pulse and twist. All extraneous noise went silent. Only Willow's voice penetrated the strange vacuum.

If Chelsea could have moved, she might have cowered in the foot well. Unfortunately, all she could manage was to gasp and wiggle a scant inch backward on the seat. Her eyes burned. Her head throbbed in time with the red light.

Then it all went away with a soundless pop.

"I've got the signatures dampened," Willow announced calmly. "It should last until I actually pull it off, too."

Chelsea stared at her disbelief. "What the hell was that?" It was a stupid question. Chelsea didn't have a lot of experience with magic, but Willow words and the earlier talk about spells were clues. Chelsea didn't really need an answer. She wanted something else, an acknowledgement or reassurance that she hadn't imagined the whole thing.

No one responded, though. Nicole was now kneeling backward on the seat, staring out the rear window. Faith drove with one hand on the wheel and the other gripping a dagger.

Willow appeared to be sleeping.

Enough was enough. Chelsea reached the end of her rope. "I asked you what the hell just happened!" Her question wasn't as polite – or as quiet – with repetition. "It's like someone turned my head inside out and _you_ caused it," she accused Willow.

"Sorry about that." Willow's offhand apology only drove Chelsea farther over the edge. While she sucked in an outraged breath, Willow went on. "Normally, I can ward against the overflow, but I'm working some seriously bad magic. All that power is hard to cage. If you think _your_ head feels funny…"

At the last minute, Chelsea managed to regain some control. She clamped her lips shut, planted her feet firmly on the floor, and wedged herself against the doorjamb and the back seat.

* * *

"What about the rest, Red? You got the fireworks ready?" Faith kept a close watch on Chelsea as she followed the bumpy, winding dirt road. The detective's calm acceptance of the situation was cracking at the worst possible moment. She didn't have time to deal with an army of vampires, a freaking detective, and Willow fighting the yoke of Major Mojo.

Fleetingly, Faith longed for the old days. The days when Buffy or Giles led the charge and she'd been the occasional backup.

"Get us closer to the safe house, and I'll show you what I've got," Willow answered. She shifted in the front seat, one hand coming to rest on Faith's thigh.

An electrical current tingled through Faith where Willow touched. Hiding her flinch, Faith nodded. "Better be good, Red. I got a bad feelin' about this." Actually, "bad" was a lame description for the way her Slayer senses were lit up. "Think we may need the mojo before we get to there."

Her words proved prophetic.

Olivia and Munch's car, still bouncing on the rutted dirt road in front of them, swerved unexpectedly. Faith jammed on the brakes to avoid a collision as the lead car slid sideways.

The new view clearly showed the arrow poking into the passenger-side front tire. "The secret passage ain't so secret," she called out. "Red, do your thing. Nic…" The commands came out curtly as Faith steered around the now-disabled car in front of them. More missiles sailed through the air, some sporting flames at their tips. One pinged off the hood, the dull thud and accompanying screech as it skittered across the metal breaking Faith's tunnel vision of the dirt road. "You got one job, Junior."

She trusted Nicole to understand the message – and the younger Slayer didn't let Faith down. "If they want the Detective, they go through me."

One worry out of the way, Faith took her attention off the road long enough to watch two of the trail cars stop to pick up Munch and Olivia. "Willow…" The sky was highlighted by burning rain; they needed more help than Faith's lead foot could provide.

Unlike Nicole, Willow didn't waste time with comment. The orange glow from the fiery arrows mixed with the rainbow colors of magic whirling around Willow in ever-growing waves.

The morning sunlight brightened until Faith blinked back tears from the glare. Not even sunglasses were going to help today; Willow's once-inconsistent sunlight spell turned the weak, washed-out winter sun into an incandescent supernova.

"Wicked," Faith breathed. The arrows flying through the air lessened. Hopefully, the new pile of ashes in the nearby trees would be good for next season's crops. Mud and snow dotted the windows as she stepped on the accelerator again. They had a date with destiny, and even Faith didn't want to be late for that. Staying alive trumped being fashionably tardy.

Unfortunately, following Buffy's old adage proved harder than Faith hoped. As Willow's magic waned, the shade provided by the trees lining the road left too many vampires still standing. Spears joined the arrows in the air; one of them shattered Willow's window before landing on her lap in a shower of glass.

Faith's head whipped around when she saw a thin line of red glisten along the edge of the spear tip, matching the blood seeping through the narrow cut on Willow's arm. "Will?" Those vampires were so dead. It was going to be Faith's sole mission to dust each and every one of them.

"I'm fine; drive," Willow ordered calmly. She met Faith's eyes as she wiped the blood off her arm. "This is all about Detective Lake, remember?"

Wrong, Faith longed to protest. Lake was only part of her mission. Willow was, too. Willow was part of her past, one of the only good parts. Willow was also her future, Faith realized. A future she'd never expected to have. "I remember," she said. She'd clue Willow in to her new role as Faith's inspiration later.

Right after she made those vampires regret marking Willow.

Needing to know Willow was _really_ OK, she reached across the seat and touched her hand. The slender fingers immediately gripped Faith's, the strength in the clasp reassuring. Their contact lasted mere seconds. Heartbeats that felt like a lifetime. Then reality rushed back in.

A line of cars appeared ahead. They reminded Faith of Angel's vehicles, with dark-tinted windows and heavy steel frames.

"Well, we didn't expect this to go as planned. That would be too easy," Willow muttered. She scowled fiercely at the roadblock. "I can do some damage; fireballs and Levin bolts, but… If I do, I'm useless for the rest of the fight. "

Now it was Faith's turn to frown. Damn it. What was she supposed to say to that? Burn yourself – and the vamps – out? The alternative, though, meant putting the Juniors, Lake, and the two clueless cops at risk. For probably the millionth time since landing in New York, Faith wished Buffy hadn't run off. She was far better at this type of leadership. "Save the big stuff for later, Red," she finally said. "It's time me and the kids earned out keep, ya' know?"

Stepping on the gas pedal, Faith let the car leap forward, pushing the engine to its limits. Those vampires might have the advantage of heavier vehicles; it didn't mean Faith couldn't create a hole for her crew to drive through. "Buckle up and keep your heads down." She took a deep breath and checked her own safety belt with one hand.

Sixty. Seventy. Faith watched the speedometer needle as the frozen landscape flashed by. Weapons still filled the air; although, she was driving too fast for any of them to be effective. Eighty. The rental felt as if it might shake apart from the speed and the rough terrain. It took Slayer strength to hold the car on the road. Ninety.

Faith had only a second to brace. They were on top of the cars much sooner than she'd anticipated, and the impact rocked Faith forward into the unforgiving grip of the seatbelt. Her foot automatically lifted from the accelerator, and it took conscious effort to fight that instinct. They didn't _want_ to slow down

The engine screamed in time with the sound of rending metal and a strange, airy hiss. Faith didn't recognize the noise. "What…?" she started to ask, right before a suffocating pillow enveloped her face.


	42. Chapter 42

Damned airbags! Faith wrestled a knife out of the sheath on her belt, stabbing at the plastic crap keeping her away from the steering wheel. Air exploded out the second the blade penetrated. "Will? Chief?" If her plan had backfired…

"Drive." Chelsea, at least, was fine. She leaned over the backseat and pointed. "Looks like you cleared a path."

A small one. It was going to do more damage to the car to get through the tiny gap between two of the vehicles in front of them. Oh, well. Hopefully, Giles had taken out a good insurance policy on the rentals. "Hang on!" Faith pressed down on the accelerator again and prayed. For once, that worked. Metal squealed in protest as they shoved their way through while a few arrows pinged off the roof.

But they'd made it. A glance in the rearview mirror showed the rest of the Juniors close behind. The lull in danger gave Faith time to worry about something new, though. "Will?" she asked again. "Will?" It was a desperate plea.

"I am _never_ letting you drive again, got it?" Willow moaned and Faith saw her slowly fight her way free of the passenger-side airbag. "What is it with Slayers and cars? The one time Buffy drove she took out a parked car."

Relief made Faith giddy. "Always knew I was better than, B. Slayer Prime gets one car. Me? Put a fuckin' hole in a couple." The euphoria lasted until she realized that Nicole hadn't joined in the banter. "Nic?" Her voice cracked and she looked over the seatback. "Chief, is she breathin'?"

The car slowed, nearly coming to a stop.

"Detective Lake… said drive." Faith slumped in the seat when Nicole's low mumble drifted over the seat. "I'm fine." That was debatable from the groggy sound to her voice. "Stop acting like this is your first battle and get on with it."

"Sure thing, Boss." Grinning like an idiot, Faith stepped on the gas again. This time, she didn't hesitate. The rental car forced its way through the final few feet of the blockade and then surged forward. They were free, but Faith wasted no time on celebrating. It was past time to get Chelsea to the safe house.

* * *

As the car bounced down the rutted road, Chelsea examined Nicole. Blood trickled from her nose and she was sure the younger girl winced every time she moved her arm. Unfortunately, Chelsea couldn't risk asking if Nicole how badly she was hurt. Faith and her damned super hearing negated any chance of a private conversation.

It grew very quiet. Chelsea's mind automatically tuned out the roar of the engine and the hoarse sound of her own breathing. The dirt road stretched alluringly in front of them, free from other cars or people.

They were going to make it.

Then harsh reality intruded. A pickup truck surged out of the tree line, rushing toward them. "Faith!" Chelsea said urgently.

"I see 'em." How, Chelsea didn't know. Faith never turned her head; her attention was all on the road. "Nic, get one of the other Juniors to head it off," she ordered. "They can meet us at the house as soon as the coast's clear."

An unspoken "if they're still alive," hovered on Chelsea's lips. She kept the comment to herself. Faith knew the risks even better than Chelsea. Hoping to alleviate some of the overwhelming guilt (and needing to feel useful), Chelsea turned sideways in her seat and peered out of the window. The truck was closing the gap quickly. It was possible to see the driver and passengers now.

She could see them…

It took far too long for the importance of that to sink in. "They're human," Chelsea finally figured out. Human, not vampire. And they weren't pointing weapons at the rental car. In fact…Chelsea nearly pressed her face into the window, trying to see more clearly. "The cavalry's here!" The boom of a shotgun accompanied her words. A minute later, the truck slid sideways, taking up a flanking position just off the rear quarter panel of the rental car.

The small bit of good news changed the atmosphere in the car immediately. Faith smirked. "Didn't peg you for a Western movie chick, Chief. Thought cowboys and Indians was like cats and dogs."

Riding a wave of confidence, Chelsea reached over the back seat and smacked Faith on the back of the head the way Willow had done earlier. "Watch it, Pilgrim," she drawled in her best (bad) John Wayne impersonation. "I happen to like cats just fine."

There was a split second of stunned silence. Then Faith snorted. "Great. Just fucking great. We ain't even got to the real fighting and Lake's already lost her mind. You got something in your bag of tricks to fix that, Red?"

Chelsea laughed, despite the jab at her sanity. "You can't fix 'lost'." Buildings in the distance ended the light-hearted scene. Sobering, Chelsea realized the end was near. They'd made it to the new voting site. All she had to do now was pick a new War Lord – from people she'd never met. With a growing sense of unreality, she scanned storefronts and front porches as Faith drove through St. Reginald.

Nothing Chelsea saw explained why anyone would go to so much trouble to take over. It could have been any small town in America.

Any small town with an army. Chelsea spotted movement in one of the buildings just before something shattered the windshield. Smoke immediately filled the car. Blinking and coughing, she peered over the back seat at the missile. "Bomb!" Molotov cocktail, really, but Chelsea didn't think anyone would mind her inaccuracy.

The car skidded as Faith jammed on the brakes, and Nicole latched onto Chelsea's arm. Her pull yanked Chelsea across the back seat even before the car completely stopped. Despite their difference in size, Chelsea was helpless to prevent Nicole from dragging her out of the rental; stumbling, she followed the young Slayer toward the dubious protection of the sidewalk.

With each step, a mental countdown ticked in Chelsea's mind. _Ten_. Arrows, fired with deadly intent, hit the ground near Chelsea's feet. _Nine_. More rental cars joined their abandoned one in the road. _Eight_. Faith shouted something Chelsea didn't understand, couldn't understand, through the thundering of her heartbeat. _Seven._ Junior Slayers surrounded Chelsea and Nicole as they finally reached the sidewalk.

She never reached six.

An explosion deafened Chelsea, the concussive blast of air shoving her into Nicole's back. They crashed into the brick front of a building as glass, plastic, and unrecognizable debris rained down. "What…" It was hard to talk. Harder to focus. Chelsea's ears rang.

"Nic, the safe house ain't going to work. Get inside of the places here and keep the Chief safe." Faith appeared so suddenly Chelsea dimly wondered if she'd used magic. "Now! Me and Red'll take care of this."

Nicole's hand tightened on Chelsea's arm, the pressure enough to hurt. Glancing up in protest, Chelsea saw the way Nicole's lips pressed together. "You heard Faith." The words were clipped, drawl buried under determination. "Cam, Jessie, stay with Detective Lake, no matter what."

Two of the Junior Slayers took up residence next to Chelsea, knives and stakes no longer hidden.

"Everybody else, fan out and be ready." Nicole took the lead, shouldering open the door to shop – law office, Chelsea noted from the small sign over the entrance.

* * *

The arrows were getting old. Not to mention possibly deadly. Faith grabbed Willow and pulled her behind the protection of one of the undamaged rental cars. She'd told Nicole they would take care of the situation. Only now did Faith acknowledge she had no idea how to accomplish that.

"I've got an idea," Willow said as if she'd read Faith's mind. She didn't explain what her thoughts were, though. Instead, she stood up – right into the path of another arrow.

Faith's heart stopped even as her body lunged at Willow. As she moved, she saw Willow flick her right hand.

The arrow spun mid-air, zipping back toward its origin with far from normal speed.

It was too late for Faith to stop her leap. She hit Willow all-out and they tumbled to the ground. "Are you fucking crazy?"

"No!" Willow may have been wheezing from the impact with the road, but Faith was in no doubt about her anger. "I was saving both our asses from the arrows. Or did you miss the fact I just floated that one back to the shooter? I can do way more than float pencils these days, Faith."

Somehow, the demonstration didn't matter. "Don't matter," Faith forcefully informed Willow. "You stand up like that again and it won't be the arrows you gotta worry about. It'll be me." To make sure she got her point across, Faith gripped Willow's chin and peered into her eyes. "You don't put yourself on the front line, Willow. Not ever."

Who knew eyes could be so stubborn? Not to mention lips and chins. Willow's expression was not accepting. "Get off me before we get turned into pincushions." She shoved at Faith. "_Dead_ pincushions."

Faith reluctantly climbed to her knees – ducking at the last minute as another arrow skimmed across the hood of the car.

"I'm not going to paint a bull's eye on my chest, Faith," Willow said softly. She knelt, too, sending the next missile back across the street. "I've been at this a long time; longer than you. I know the rules. Don't die." Three more arrows followed the command of Willow's hand. "Let the stupid Slayers throw themselves at the vampires."

The comment stung, even though it was exactly what Faith had been about to tell Willow that earlier. Getting a tighter grip on her stake, Faith popped up from behind the car and heaved the wood at one of the vampires peeking out from a storefront. The soundless pop and the flutter of his ashes were therapeutic. She dropped back to safety and fished another stake out of a pocket. "This stupid Slayer ain't playin', Will. You're walking out of this."

"So are you, Faith." Willow wasn't giving an inch. She met Faith's glare with one even more determined before hopping up. Arrows bounced off something invisible in front of her and then Willow repeated the fireball she'd used on Olivia's gun – times ten. A flaming orb flew from each fingertip, their aim accurate if the screams a few seconds later were any indication. When Willow crouched next to Faith, she was panting. "I did some damage, but I need a chance to recharge now. Inside?"

"In a sec." Faith hated the fact that she couldn't do as much damage as Willow; it didn't keep her from standing a second time. Slayer speed and many hours of practice let her get off two stakes in quick succession. "Now we go."

Willow grabbed her hand and took off. Crouching and running, they crossed the sidewalk behind and ducked into the building.

Steel and wood met their entrance.

"Next time, you might want to give us some warning before you come in." Nicole wasn't joking as she slowly lowered the pair of daggers she'd raised and gestured for the other Juniors to follow suit.


	43. Chapter 43

Faith thought about saying something sarcastic and then reconsidered. Things were too serious. "What's the sitch?" she asked, pulling Willow closer and scanning the room. Her impromptu headcount discovered several missing Junior Slayers – and Chelsea.

"I've got a team upstairs keeping an eye on the street and another sitting on Detective Lake." Stuffing a dagger into her belt, Nicole pointed at an overturned table and the pair of Juniors busy ripping off the legs. "Now that you and Willow are inside – and not full of holes…" Apparently she didn't have Faith's restraint in the sarcasm department. "We're boarding over the windows down here. Chelsea's tribe is checking out the buildings next to us and calling the other groups with the change in voting site."

"Good job, Nicole," Willow said while Faith simply gaped.

She pulled herself together when Willow's sharp elbow jabbed her side. "Yeah, kid. Good job." Unlike Willow's previous statement, Faith's sounded clipped and she grimaced. "I'm gonna retire when this is over. Red agreed to strap on some skis and roast marshmallows with me," she tacked on to show her sincerity.

Nicole's face flushed far brighter than warranted and her mouth worked soundlessly for several seconds. "What…" Her voice cracked on what sounded like choked laughter before steadying. "What else do you want us to do?"

Faith really wished they had the opportunity to talk about whatever was going on with Nicole. This wasn't really a humorous situation. She was missing something. She knew it – and hated it. "Get me whoever's in charge of the tribe. And Chelsea. We need the 411 on this vote." Faith turned and took a second look around the office. Nicole had the Juniors doing the best they could to keep the vampires out. Unfortunately, those measures also made it impossible for _them _to get out. They were well and truly trapped now. "Never thought I'd say this," she began in a soft mumble.

"But you think I'm sexy?" Willow finished with a puckish grin.

"Well…" Faith chuckled when Willow's tongue snuck from between her teeth. "Yeah, but that ain't what I meant." She shook her head and pulled her attention away from the gutter – and Willow's lips. "I was talkin' about wishin' Giles was here." She couldn't admit how precarious their current location was with all of the Juniors in the room. Instead, she met Willow's eyes. "Miss the way he gets all tweedy during research parties."

Willow's smile stayed in place, but her eyes were serious. "Oh, if you need big words and nifty accents, I can fill in. I mean, I _did _spend some time in England. All that tea drinking and walking in the rain has to count for something."

If only the accent was all they needed. Swallowing her resurging lack of confidence, Faith shrugged with as much feigned disinterest as possible. "Nah. Like the way you sound, Red." That, at least, wasn't a lie. "Guess we don't need Giles anyway. Ain't no demon books in here. We're goin' old school: stakes and steel."

"With one new addition. A vote." Willow had to point that out. She winked at Faith's glare.

The damned vote. Faith paced impatiently, waiting for Chelsea and her new family to show up. How the hell were they supposed to hold off the vampires outside until Anshu and Paula's crew arrived? By the time she heard the sound of footsteps at the back of the room, Faith was more than ready to take her fear and bottled aggression out on someone. "What took so long? We got problems?" she snapped, almost hoping the answer would be yes. It would be par for the course – and it would give her something to do except worry.

Unfortunately, there was a dearth of good news. "The building is secure," a tall, heavily-muscled man answered.

"Good." What else could Faith say? She stoked the hilt of a dagger stuffed under her belt. "You ready, Chief? They fill you in on the candidates?"

* * *

There was something, a note in Faith's voice. Chelsea recognized the barely buried anxiety. Fantastic. Faith was coming apart. "I know what I have to do." She tried to sound completely calm and in control to offset the show of nerves.

"Yes." Balaji placed a hand on Chelsea's shoulder. "We have instructed Chelsea. When the time comes, she will do honor to her family." He hadn't sounded so sure earlier when the five minutes of instruction had been happening. "We lack only the symbols of the Royaneh."

A staff and some shells. Not even the vampires littering the streets outside helped Chelsea accept such simple items as tokens of her authority. Hoping her expression didn't give her away, she looked at Nicole and then Faith. "Any word from Paula?" Chelsea hated to ask; hated to remind Faith of the decision she'd made.

"No, Detective." Nicole's voice was flat, and she didn't offer more than those two words.

Into the vacuum her announcement created, Faith said grimly, "Find a way to vote without the shells and shit." The bleak look in her eyes matched her tone. "Sendin' the Juniors in was a long shot anyway."

Not to mention the vampires still trying to kill them all. As if to point up their part in the coming election, they added to the scene with a bang. Several of them, in fact.

"Faith, I think they're going to break through the plywood." By this time, Chelsea recognized the Junior Slayer who spoke as Cheryl. Cheryl's thought was proven true when another bang was followed by the sound of splintering and the tip of an axe peeking through the damaged wood covering the office windows.

A heartbeat later, Chelsea was nearly gang tackled. Cam – Chelsea thought it was Cam, it was hard to see bent in half – yanked her into a crouch and shoved her toward the back of the room. She tried to fight Cam off. Writhing against the firm hand on the back of her neck, Chelsea managed to stand up for an entire second before Jessie came to Cam's aid.

Police training was useless against two Slayers with a mission. Chelsea was hustled behind and then under what had probably been the receptionist's desk. Jessie stood on one side. Cam took the other.

"OK, listen up, kiddies. Looks like we got some crashers comin' to the party," she heard Faith say. Shoes and shadows hurried past the narrow strip between the bottom of the desk and the floor. Chelsea stared at them as Faith continued. "Don't know how many or what they're carryin'. Got to expect bows. Once the windows ain't covered, all they got to do is pick us off."

Chelsea surged up; she needed to be out there with the Faith and her crew. Most of them were kids… All she accomplished was adding a bump to her head as she bashed it into the desk overhead and several bruises as both of her "bodyguards" ruthlessly shoved her back down.

As Chelsea ground her teeth in frustration, the feet in front of her shifted restlessly. "They won't pick us off," Willow said; Chelsea could picture her, hands on hips, glaring at Faith. "Only you Slayers would be stupid enough to stand in front of an open window and yell 'Here I am. Shoot me!' When the arrows start flying, I'll take care of them. By the time I run out of energy, they'll either be out of arrows or they've got an assembly line somewhere feeding them ammunition."

No one responded. Chelsea grinned; Faith had to be scowling at Willow's verbal smackdown, though.

The moment of mirth was her last.

Chelsea couldn't see the plywood give way, but she heard it. Her world narrowed to match the strip of light under the desk. Confusion reigned. Tennis shoes and work boots dashed back and forth. Bodies fell to the floor. Some remained intact and covered in blood. Some turned to dust.

* * *

There was no sign of Chelsea. Ducking under the wild knife thrust of the vamp in front of her, Faith risked a second look around the now-crowded office. Still no Chelsea; however, Cam and Jessie stood like Slayer Statues behind a huge desk. It was a good bet they'd stuffed the detective under there to keep her safe.

The kids were damned good. Maybe they'd actually get out of this alive.

She should have remembered the way the PtB worked. As soon as she had a positive thought, more vampires surged through the window and another wave of arrows darkened the sky. Willow's voice rose over the din, the chanting an odd counterpoint to the clang of weapons and the shouts of the fighters. Heat and a light flared. Faith blinked and thrust up a hand against the glare as arrows and vampires alike drifted to the floor. Normal sunlight returned. No more vampires waited on the street. That was it? Sure there was more, Faith didn't relax her guard or lower her weapons. The prophecy had claimed an army was after Chelsea. Old books and parchment could be wrong. The dull cramp of Faith's Slayer senses, though, was always dead on.

There were more vampires nearby.

"Will?" Faith called out. Time for a quick status report.

A tired "Not much left in the tank," answered her query. "I can do that _maybe_ one more time. If I stick to just the arrows, I can keep us hole-free for a while." Willow moved next to Faith, one hand rubbing at her neck. Her voice dropped to a whisper not even the closest Junior Slayer would be able to hear. "If I let Dark Willow out to play, I can level the town. Now that we're here… I was right about the Hellmouth. I can feel the power."

So could Faith. She'd simply pushed the awareness aside in favor of focusing on the more immediate threat. "Ain't gonna get that far," she said just as softly but with enough of a growl to make sure Willow understood her point. Neither one of them was turning into their Evil Twin today or any other. There might be an army of vampires in this crappy town; however, Faith had an army of her own.

Turning her attention away from Willow before she could start an argument, Faith snapped, "Nic!"

"We've got eight down," Nicole answered immediately.

Eight? Faith couldn't believe they'd lost that many so quickly.

As if anticipating that reaction, Nicole continued flatly. "Three Juniors, five tribesmen. Four…" Her composure faltered for an instant. "Four dead: Rachel, Karen," Faith recognized the names of the youngest Junior Slayers, "Nityanand, and Tanmay. Minor injuries for the rest."

It could have been worse. Yet, the low body count didn't ease the ache in Faith's chest. She'd hated being the tool of the Council, of fighting – and possibly dying – alone. Fighting with fellow Slayers, friends, kids who looked up to her, who _died_ because she put them in danger, was unbelievably worse.

Tears spilled out and sobs clawed for release. Faith kept her back to the room and reached blindly for Willow.

"What about Detective Lake?" Willow's voice wavered but her hand was warm and firm as it gripped Faith's.

"I'm fine." Chelsea answered for herself. "The Duo won't let me out from under the damned desk!"

The detective's frustration was obvious. Yesterday, that would have caused Faith to smirk and laugh. Today it did nothing to stem Faith's grief and guilt. Where were the vampires when you needed them? Faith wanted, _needed_ to take out the rage growing deep inside.

No new attack started.

Slowly, Faith wrestled her tears under control. She tucked her knife away and kept a tight grip on Willow's hand. Sunlight poured into the office through the shattered window. There was little shade anywhere on the street or the sidewalk. They were safe for now. "Nic, I need to know where Ansu and Paula are. It's time to get this show on the road."

"On it, Boss." Nicole had recovered enough to poke Faith for a reaction.

Faith let the jab go, though. Movement on the street had her back on alert. She yanked her knife from her belt and dragged Willow behind her.

The woman on the sidewalk wasn't skulking in shadows or wrapped in a smoking blanket. Instead, she strolled confidently through the sunlight, long dark hair blowing in the slight breeze. "I am Damini of the Flint Tribe," she announced when she stood in front of Faith and the missing window. "I claim Royaneh rights in the absence of a true St. Reginald blood-candidate."


	44. Chapter 44

Faith had no experience with tribes or elections. She had plenty of experience with vampires, though – and Damini wasn't one. She wasn't a demon, either. That left only one option. Human. "Too bad," Faith answered bluntly. "We already got us a Head Voter. You'll have to wait in line."

"You have nothing." Damini didn't appear to have a sense of humor. Glaring coldly at Faith, she pointed toward the back of the room. "The St. Reginald has no true heirs left, and I will not permit that pretender hiding under a desk to choose the next Takarihoken."

An explosive bang and then a heartfelt, "Damn it!" followed Damini's pronouncement. Chelsea clearly hadn't liked the crack about hiding.

Great. Just great. Nearly grinding her teeth, Faith took a step toward the woman. Almost immediately, two men appeared outside the shattered windows. Both held loaded and cocked crossbows. Faith froze and deliberately put her hands up to show how harmless she was. "Ain't no reason to be pointin' shit at me." With slow, careful movements, she put herself between the bolts and Chelsea's less-than-secret location, all the while praying Willow would move, too.

Her actions didn't fool anyone and Faith's prayers went unanswered. The crossbows remained pointed at her, and Willow moved to stand next to her rather than somewhere safer. Seconds later, Nicole sidled up. Faith was trapped between their mission to keep Chelsea safe and the need to get the younger Slayer and Willow out of the line of fire.

Before things had a chance to get uglier, one of Chelsea's tribesmen spoke. "You are mistaken, Damini. The St. Reginald Tribe and its Royaneh stand ready, as they have done for many generations, to choose the next Takarihoken. No matter the number of our people you have killed, we will not allow you to interfere."

Stiffening, Damini scowled over Faith's shoulder. This was going to turn bloody…bloodier any second. "If the female heirs of a Confederate Lord's title become extinct, the title right shall be given by the Lords of the Confederacy to the sister family," she stated. The quotation marks were apparent. "The Flint is the only sister clan remaining among the Mohawk. We _shall _hold the power to elect the next Lord."

* * *

Enough was enough. Chelsea wasn't going to listen to them talk about her like she wasn't here. Since she couldn't overpower the Juniors pinning her under the desk, she picked another route. The desk slid noisily across the floor when Chelsea shoved it forward. When she'd cleared a few feet, she stood. The bang as the heavy furniture tipped onto its side was satisfying – and managed to make Chelsea the center of attention.

"Unless I'm as dead as those vampires in your army, you aren't getting authority over anything." It felt good to be part of the action again, even if that action put Chelsea in danger from the crossbows pointed into the room. To hell with cowering behind Faith and Friends.

The look Damini gave Chelsea matched the ones she'd received from her training officers her rookie year. Clearly not impressed and verging on contemptuous. "So you believe you are qualified, by blood alone, to take your place among the Royaneh?"

Chelsea tried for cool arrogance when she nodded her assent.

"Then you will not object to a test of your qualifications," Damini said. Only then did Chelsea sense the well-laid trap, and it was too late to avoid it.

Making her face as expressionless as possible, Chelsea didn't respond. She simply waited for Damini to continue or for someone in the room to save her from her stupidity.

No help came. Voice soft and polite, Damini asked, "Explain to us all the role of the Royaneh."

Sweat gathered at the ends of Chelsea's hair and at the small of her back. She could do this. She'd had a thirty second lesson in the Iroquois Confederacy and Mohawk tradition and family structure. "The Royaneh are the women who lead the tribe." Pausing, Chelsea shook her head. "Well, not exactly lead. They hold political power and are the people responsible for electing a new Lord when there's… a vacany." A death. A murder, Chelsea didn't say aloud. She let her eyes speak for her as she glared at Damini.

The other woman remained cool. Too cool. Something wasn't right. All of Chelsea's instincts blared a warning. With the deadly firepower and the army Damini commanded, she should have simply let her troops overrun Faith and the Junior Slayers.

Why was she standing here asking questions? Questions so easy even Chelsea get them right.

Ignoring the contemptuous curl to Damini's lips, Chelsea shelved her confusion and rising anger and looked around. She examined the scene around her with the eyes of a trained detective.

Faith, Willow, and Nicole stood in a tense line to her left. They obviously wanted to step in front of Chelsea. She could see Faith's hands open and close around a stake thrust under her belt, and Nicole chewed her lip so hard Chelsea expected to see blood soon.

Time seemed to slow as if paused by science fiction special effects as Chelsea peered at the rest of the room. Junior Slayers stared at Damini and at Faith. Waiting. For orders? Action? The members of her tribe stared at _Chelsea. _Ah, this was her first test. Maybe they had some of the same doubts about her qualifications as Damini. That thought brought Chelsea's shoulders stiffly back and narrowed her eyes. She wasn't going to fail. There were too many lives, including her own, on the line.

Completing her examination of the room, she realized Munch and Olivia were missing. They'd left with Prasad even before Chelsea had been stuffed under the desk. For a split second, Chelsea's focus shattered. Damn it! Where were they? Chelsea looked around the room again as if her co-workers might magically appear.

"Perhaps I do not need to ask further questions." Of course, Damini noticed Chelsea's panic. "The little rabbit looks ready to bolt for safety," she mocked and her bodyguards smirked.

Her statement pushed Chelsea forward a step. Self control? What control? Only a driving need to identify the cause of the unease coiling through her body kept Chelsea from settling this dispute like a schoolyard brawl. "I'm not running," she responded tightly. Only part of her mind stayed on the conversation. Most of her attention went back to hunting for clues to Damini's behavior.

If the threat wasn't inside the room, it had to be outside. The sun had emerged over the tops of the buildings, washing the street and the abandoned rental cars in soft light. Chelsea didn't see any deadly arrows pointing in their direction through the shattered glass of the storefronts. There were no snipers on the rooftops. From the heavy hand to hand combat earlier, and the lack of any modern weapon among Faith's girls, this was a very medieval fight.

Or was it? Damini was here. In the daylight. She wasn't a vampire and neither were the two men at her side. The Flint didn't seem to play by the rules that Faith and Willow had explained.

Chelsea frantically searched the rooftops again. There! The bright flash of metal from a second-story window across the street. "Down!" she shouted and then followed her own orders.

She was too slow. Fiery pain blazed in her left shoulder. It spread in a wave all the way into her chest until breathing was an exercise in agony. Her view of the room splintered into psychedelic images interspersed with sound…

Damini's triumphant laugh merged with Faith's voice shouting, "Bitch!" They created a echoing feedback loop in Chelsea's head.

Bright colors swirled by. Blue, black, white. T-shirts, Chelsea dimly realized. The Junior Slayers surrounding her. Then a hand seized Chelsea's chin. "Detective?"

"Go away," Chelsea wanted to say, but her lips wouldn't move. Nothing worked on command.

* * *

"Bitch!" Faith barely heard her own voice over the crack of a second shot being fired. Yelling was a waste of time anyway. Laughter swirling in her wake, Damini and her bodyguards scurried away as the room behind Faith erupted into action. More reaction, really, to Chelsea dropping to the floor. Still, Faith glared at the empty street in front of the building before turning to check on Chelsea and the Juniors.

It was hard to tell how Chelsea was doing. A tight ring of Junior Slayers surrounded the detective, but Faith caught a glimpse of Chelsea's boots and a flash of red hair. Willow. Good. She was safe if the sniper started up again.

As if she'd heard Faith thinking, Nicole took a position at the edge of the remains of the room's front window, a loaded crossbow in her hands. She sighted and pulled the trigger. The bolt loosed with a soft click, but the glass that shattered in the upper-floor window across the street was far louder.

So was the pained scream of the sniper before he tumbled to the ground far below.

"Nice job, Nicole." Faith regarded the younger girl with still-growing respect. Leaving Nicole to maintain a watch for more of Damini's troops, she turned back to the circle of Juniors. "Comin' through," she announced, and a gap in the guard magically appeared. Faith stepped through and smiled with grim satisfaction when the ranks of Junior Slayers closed behind her. Her smile faded when she saw Willow huddled on the ground next to Chelsea's unmoving form and spotted the pool of blood slowly spreading out beneath her. Strain marked Willow's face; sweat dampened her hair. Her hands, clenched a few inches over Chelsea's chest, shook. "Red?" Faith understood on an instinctive level that startling Willow at this moment was a very bad idea, but not even a circle of determined Juniors would be enough if Damini made a return.

Willow's eyes opened and she turned her head slightly. Faith barely turned her unSlayer-like shriek of fear into a his. Pools of blue, eerily like a scene from a Bonnie Tyler music video, stared at her. "Not now."

"Right." Faith inched away until she brushed into Jessie's back. "Got it." Rubbing her hands on her jeans, she realized she could _feel _the power pouring from Willow, into Chelsea. Forcing herself not to pull away and hide behind Jessie, Faith let the tingle of power enter her senses a little more.

After the first heady rush, the energy…settled. The warm current of magic sat just outside her vision. Faith smiled. Now that she wasn't running away from it, the magic felt like Willow: shy, sweet, and comforting. The tingle changed as she welcomed it in. It traced along Faith's mind with a light, deft touch. A deliberate stroke. Like Willow's hand gliding gently up her arm, across her collarbone, and over her lips.

"Will." Faith breathed the name in unconscious supplication. God, she wanted more. Right now. Hew awareness of the room disappeared. Only Willow mattered. Willow was Faith's focus.

The invisible hand had moved again, into Faith's hair. It strengthened its touch. Faith imagined Willow's fingers sifting through her sweat-tangled curls. Sifting. Soothing. And then tugging. "Ow!" Faith jerked and the link with Willow shattered.

Willow staggered to her feet. "You've got a one-track mind, you know? Get your mind out of the gutter and get back to work." Exhaustion fogged her voice, but her lips twitched enough to take the sting out of the jibe.

Embarrassed and not a little aroused from their mental interaction, Faith pressed her lips together on a reply. She bent and hooked both hands under Chelsea's arms. The detective was conscious now, and the blood pool hadn't grown. Lifting carefully, she helped Chelsea to her feet and then let the other woman lean against her.

Chelsea was deadly pale and Faith set herself against her weight. "Cam, Jessie, you're on point. Make sure we ain't got trouble waitin' in the back." With the help of the St. Reginald tribe, maybe they could escape out another exit.

Both girls immediately dropped out of their battle guard positions and trotted away with weapons at the ready. It was fucking awesome to have them here, Faith thought – and it was the worst thing ever. She wrapped an arm around Chelsea's waist and stared after the Juniors, willing them to stay alert and alive.


	45. Chapter 45

Moving with the Juniors pressed so close was hard. Doing it while basically carrying Chelsea was damned near impossible. Impossible was the norm for a Slayer, though. Faith ignored the cramp in her back and the sweat dripping into her eyes. She put one foot in front of the other and opened her senses. Willow's comforting presence was still there. It hovered right against the edges of Faith's awareness.

It was the only good feeling in a sea of evil. Vampires, the Hellmouth… They pressed at Faith. A quick peek at the kids around her proved that they were close to breaking under the constant strain. Their collective experience with Slayer powers and fighting evil didn't add up to one month in Sunnydale. Pre-First Sunnydale, at that.

They were screwed. Faith shifted Chelsea's weight against her side and wanted to cry. Or curse. God, the Council was so arrogant. So was she. And Willow. The prophecy had warned them about an army. Despite that, they'd come to New York with a handful of kids expecting nothing more threatening than a few disorganized vampires. A normal day in the life of a Slayer. Too bad the vampires hadn't played along.

Nope. Damini and her boys were obviously organized. They'd corralled Faith and her crew into a trap.

As the group crept into the hallway at the back of the law office, Faith looked for a way out. A narrow staircase sat to the left. Doors lined the rest of the hall all the way to a closed security door leading to the alley behind the building.

Up or out? Barricading themselves into an office would only make the situation worse. If they went up, at least they had the high ground and the limited access points would put the vampires at a disadvantage. Of course, those few exits also made the second floor a bad option. One flaming arrow and the whole building would go up – with them stuck inside.

"Head out the back," Faith said tersely. She couldn't see through the backs of the Juniors in front of her, but she had no doubt Nicole was in the lead. "Stay sharp. The Bitch's probably got lookouts waitin'."

"What about Agnes and Dee?" the voice emanated from the wall of Juniors, and Faith couldn't tell which one had spoken. "They went upstairs…"

Upstairs. Upstairs and they hadn't come down even when the fighting and shooting started. Faith wanted to let her darker side out so badly. She wanted to find Damini and her army and kill them all. "Keep movin,'" she ordered tightly. "If they was gonna help out, they'd be here." Admitting that the two girls were probably dead wasn't possible. Faith flinched from the very thought - even as her mind kept a macabre tally: Rachel and Karen in the main office, Agnes and Dee upstairs, and ten more who'd volunteered for a suicide mission. Twelve Juniors Slayers. Her responsibility.

If Chelsea had been able to walk on her own, Faith would have charged to the front. No more Juniors were going to die on her watch. She'd be the first one out the door, the one the vampires and Damini's human soldiers targeted.

Faith stopped in the middle of the hallway as if her feet had grown roots. She was a fucking idiot. "Cam, Jessie, take over for me." They'd been assigned bodyguard duty. What better place to be than right there, supporting Chelsea? As the two girls pulled the taller, heavier Chelsea against them, Faith pushed her way through the rest of the crowd.

Nicole was right where she expected, alone at the front of the pack, armed with a crossbow and dagger. What Faith hadn't planned for was Willow. Still pale and drawn, she walked only a step behind Nicole. Oh, hell, no. "Nic, fall back. I've got point." There was enough snap to Faith's command that the younger girl jumped and spun around with weapons raised. "Red, stay with the Chief." She didn't bother giving similar orders to Balaji and the two other remaining member of Chelsea's tribe. They were Lake's family; they knew the score.

Shaking her head, Willow refused. "No. I've got enough energy for one more sunlight spell or a couple rounds of Toss the Arrow. More if…"

With two quick strides, Faith overtook Willow. "Move!" She wasn't going to argue, and she wasn't letting Willow finish that thought.

Apparently, Willow didn't feel like arguing, either. She merely stepped aside long enough for Nicole to slip passed and them moved back into place. "Can you feel anything outside? I can't believe Damini didn't plan for this. The whole scene out front was a distraction to get to Chelsea. She had to know if shooting her failed, we'd run for the back door."

"Got a gong in my head. Can't tell ya' how many; just know they're there." And that meant Faith had one more problem. Worrying about Willow was a priority. Unfortunately, it wasn't Faith's _first _priority, damn it. She held up a hand and everyone came to attention. "Nic, take care of the Chief. Me and Red're gonna check things out." More like _take _things out. Dread coiled deep inside. This was it. Kill or be killed. Faith caught Willow's eyes and saw them flicker. Green then blue. This was their one, final strike. "Stay here until we come get ya'."

A sharp intake of breath indicated Nicole wanted to protest. Her silence proved she was too smart to do so.

Faith tested her grip on the stake in her left hand and pulled another out with her right. "Willow…" She'd left it too late to say more. Every dream she'd had, every desire. Faith channeled them all into that one word.

"I know." The lines of strain marring Willow's face deepened, and Faith's skin tingled as Willow readied her own weapons. "Stay behind me. Once I take the training wheels off the magic, things are going to get nasty." She turned away and reached for the push-bar on the exit door. "You'll know when it's…safe to take over."

Faith would know. Her knees didn't want to bend and her quadriceps quivered so badly that she feared she might fall down. When the magic stopped, Willow would either be drained or dead. And at that moment, Faith vowed to share Willow's fate – right after she made Damini and her army pay. The acknowledgement steadied Faith. Her strides grew confident and she exploded out of the doorway only inches behind Willow.

For years, the Scoobies had joked about beating back the Apocalypse. The recent battle with the First had fulfilled that scenario, complete with glimpses of fiery Hells and demons crawling from the depths of the Underworld. The second Faith stepped into the alley, the different nature of _this _fight became apparent.

She wasn't in Hell. She was battling in a real-life version of "Halo".

Snipers peeked over adjacent rooftops and out of nearby windows. Arrows and bullets were already in the air. Without Willow, Faith would have been dead before the door closed behind her. A wave of a slender hand sent the missiles right back to their owners. A single ringing Word and the alley burned in the wake of a mini-mushroom cloud. Before Faith or Damini's army could recover, Willow continued.

She chanted and the ground trembled. Lightening crackled in the air and wind whipped with hurricane force between the buildings. Willow's hands snapped up over her head, palms facing forward.

That's when Faith fully understood. Willow had crossed the line. She'd opened herself to the magic like she had their final day in Sunnydale. Only this time, there didn't appear to be a Deity waiting in the wings. Black, not white, inked the ends of Willow's hair. "No!" she shouted. But the protest was futile. Even if Willow had heard her over the roar of the wind, Faith lacked the strength to force a stop to the dark magic.

Rage clawed deep inside. This was Faith's fight. Her time in the prophecy limelight. Willow was a volunteer about to become a victim because _Faith hadn't done her part._ Her fingers ached where they clutched her stake.

When Willow's hands swept down in a vicious arc, twin beams of blue fire spurted toward the shadowed figures clustered near a doorway across the alley. Screams and the familiar smell of burning vampire filled the air.

A new barrage of bullets tore through the alley. Again, Willow waved a hand and kept her and Faith safe. But she must have been tiring. The bullets didn't turn in mid-air and fly away. They simply slammed into an invisible wall and dropped to the ground, making soft pings as the metal impacted the concrete.

Faith saw a tremor run through Willow a heartbeat before she swayed. Surging forward, she grabbed Willow's shoulders to keep her upright.

It was a mistake. Willow blazed with power, a dark power that coiled in and around Faith the second they touched. Her head buzzed from the influx and the seductive song of madness reached out to her already-simmering rage. With a howl, Faith let the darkness win.

She flew across the alley in three great strides. A man brandishing a gun stepped into her path and died from a fist to his throat before he could pull the trigger.

* * *

Chelsea watched the door slam closed behind Willow and Faith. She could feel the tension in the two Slayers holding her up. If she stopped to think about what was happening, Chelsea knew she'd been a quivering mass right along with them. There had been something so terribly final in the slamming door.

Unfortunately, the young girls surrounding Chelsea didn't have the benefit of age or experience to help them. The echo of the door faded. Less than a heartbeat later, the hallway reverberated with an ear-shattering _boom_! Screams and shouts followed. Unseen objects drummed against the wall and doorway.

With each successive sound, the Juniors lost composure. Even Nicole lost her usual air of competence. She stood still as a statue at the front of the group, eyes locked on the alley exit.

"Nic!" Chelsea barked Faith's chosen nickname for the young girl deliberately.

It worked. At least a little. Nicole's head snapped in Chelsea's direction but she was still panicking. Her mouth worked without sound, and beads of sweat visibly marked her pale face. That wouldn't work. With Faith gone, someone had to pull everyone together. The Juniors needed one of their own as a leader. Balaji was a stranger. They knew Chelsea. And she might have the skills to do the job, but she was the target. Nicole was the clear second in command.

Playing the victim grated on Chelsea's already battered ego. She stifled her need to simply take charge and instead turned her attention to pushing Nicole back into action. "Hey, I need to sit down." It wasn't a lie. Chelsea's chest ached and burned where Willow's magic had touched, she normally wouldn't have admitted the problem. To lend credence to her plight, Chelsea leaned more heavily on Jessie.

"No, we may need to move," Nicole responded. Her voice firmed with each word. "We don't know what's happening outside." When she glanced around the hall, Chelsea was relieved to see her usual determination and intelligence in full force. "Shannon, can you make it up the stairs?" If the hallway had been wider, Chelsea thought Nicole would be pacing. She suddenly exuded restless energy. "We need to know what's going on out there."

The stocky kid who'd almost been stuck in the lead car shrugged. "If you need me up those stairs, I can make it. Just a scratch anyway." Stepping away from the rest of the Junior Slayers, Shannon jogged to the staircase and paused at the base long enough to pull a dagger from a belt-sheath. "I'll call you when I have a good view." As she took the stairs three at a time, Chelsea saw the dark red stain marring the back of her sweatshirt.

Just a scratch. God. If Chelsea hadn't been leaning on her bodyguards, she might have fallen. The world seemed to spin as the reality of the last few days suddenly became too much. These kids, super powers and all, were dying. For her. They'd already lost two. Maybe more, since the groups going to the election site hadn't checked in.

Chelsea's thoughts spiraled out of control until Cam shifted and pain lanced through the healing bullet wound in Chelsea's chest. Her gasp froze the younger girl on the spot. "I'm sorry, Detective," Cam whispered.

"It's…It's OK." Chelsea straightened as much as she could. Now that Nicole was back under control and taking charge, it was time for Chelsea to do the same. "Balaji, we can't cower here forever." Faith and Willow against an army. It was a given they would eventually fall. "We need to do the ceremony, hold the vote, now."

"We cannot." Face taut with strain, Balaji explained. "Without the staff of office, you have no authority. And Anshu must be present. It is his duty to take the wampum to the other tribes, announcing your choice of Takarihoken."

Tradition be damned. "Look!" Chelsea was all out of patience and understanding for her newly-discovered family. "I don't need a piece of wood and some shells to _make _me important. I'm right here. I'm supposed to be the only one who can cast this vote." She paused, meeting Balaji's eyes. "I'm ready to choose." Before they all died.

Stiffening at her rebuke, Balaji nonetheless did not back down. "The other tribes, especially the Flint, would not accept that choice, Chelsea. They would claim that you have forsaken your heritage. Damini would be next in line to assume the title of Royaneh and would name one of their own as Takarihoken."

And everything the St. Reginald and the Junior Slayers had fought and died for would be moot.

Chelsea swallowed her impatience. "Sorry." She intended to say more; however, a series of thuds sounded on the stairs.

As one, the group turned with weapons raised. Chelsea felt their collective gasp of horror when Shannon tumbled gracelessly down from the second floor. Fletching protruded from her chest and blood sprayed the treads and trim with each successive drop. Despite that, Shannon managed to rise to her knees when she landed at the ground floor. "Run!" Her voice was a thread of sound. "Dozens. Windows…upstairs. Couldn't stop…" Her warning stopped in time with the twang of a bowstring. A second arrow imbedded in Shannon's chest and she fell to the ground.

This time, she didn't get up.

Pandemonium reigned.

Balaji shouted a command and the rest of the St. Reginald dove in front of Chelsea and formed a line at the bottom of the staircase. They returned fire and the boom of their shotguns echoed through the hall.

The surge from the second floor must have been part of a planned attack. Chelsea was thrown into Jessie as Cam ducked from beneath her arm and turned. Three men charged at her from the main office where Chelsea glimpsed an ongoing battle. Smoke rose from their clothing and fangs glinted at their lips. Tossing a stake, Cam got rid of one vampire. The other two, though, were on her before she could throw again.

* * *

Stepping over the body, Faith took a lightning-fast assessment of the building. Staircases left and right. Large open area with rows of metal shelving stacked with boxes and bags ahead. No light except what leaked through the alley door.

A scene from every Sunnydale warehouse raid. With no plan but destruction, she continued forward. Two vampires immediately emerged from the shadows – and turned to dust as Faith's stakes found homes in their hearts. Slayer instinct demanded more; her senses screamed from the feel of so much evil nearby. She might have given in if intermittent gunfire hadn't continued outside.

Gunfire meant a different threat. Humans. The vampires would have to wait…unless they got in the way. Ignoring new movement among the shelves, Faith took the stairs to her right at a dead run. Her first victim met her at the landing, the stake making a wet, sucking sound as it jabbed through muscle and bone. Blood poured around the wood and soaked Faith's hands. A metallic, copper-laden scent clogged Faith's nose and seemed to lodge in her throat.

Her momentum faltered as images of a similar scene in another alley flickered to life in her mind.

Faith shoved those away. This wasn't Sunnydale. The man dying in her arms was _not _Deputy Mayor Finch. He was an enemy. Part of an army trying to kill Willow and the Juniors.

He deserved to die. They all did. Time lost meaning as Faith charged up the stairs with renewed energy and determination. She tried to reach the snipers in the upper floors of the building. If the bullets stopped, Willow and the Juniors could get Chelsea to safety.

There were too many vampires and humans in her way, though. They sprang from every doorway and hid around every corner. Hands and feet in constant motion, Faith used her stakes like knives, stabbing and slashing at vulnerable eyes, throats, stomachs, hearts, and groins. Some of her opponents died. Others drifted to the floor as dust.

A few slipped through her defenses. It grew harder and harder to raise her left arm. Faith dropped one stake and slipped in a pool of blood. Her ankle twisted with an audible pop. Killing rage was replaced with the certainty of her coming death.

Faith refused to go quietly – or alone. She staggered down the stairs, back toward the alley, left arm now dangling uselessly at her side. She had to find Willow. It was time to make a final stand.

Her path was blocked, though. Damini and her two stooges stood at the doorway.

Gripping her only remaining blood-soaked stake, Faith slowed her steps and gathered the last of her strength. So much for finding Willow. The thought burned like acid, but there was no way she could take all three. Faith _might _be able to handle one. She would make sure that Damini wasn't making the vote instead of Chelsea. "Ah, did ya' come to ask more questions? 'Cause I'm afraid I didn't get no Mohawk lessons like the Chief."

Damini laughed and the men at her side raised their crossbows. "I am done asking questions. It is finally time to put an end to the St Reginald."

"Hate to break it to ya'." The taunt was pure reaction. Faith looked at Damini, at her guards. The one on the left was distracted. His weapon was ready, but his eyes flickered to the side. His head turned just the slightest. He was the weak spot. "Ain't no Indians here 'cept you." With no other warning, Faith lunged at Damini, aiming her attack at Damini's right side.

The guard tried to recover. His head whipped around and he fired a bolt. Faith was too close for that to be effective, though. She crashed into Damini with more raw force than skill. They landed in the alley in a tangle of arms and legs. The bad arm and the myriad of other wounds worked to Faith's disadvantage now. The other woman writhed and twisted like a snake. Faith couldn't hang on to her stake _and _maintain her hold on Damini.

Actually, she couldn't do either thing. Damini landed a brutal punch to Faith's jaw and another right over her already-wounded arm. Screaming in pain, she fell to one side; her stake slipped from her hand. Helpless, Faith stared as Damini picked up the sharpened wood and raised it over her head for the killing blow – and then froze. Her body remained still, arm upraised, for a long moment before slumping lifelessly to the ground.

"Drop the weapons. Now!" Olivia and her gun peeked from behind a dumpster farther down the alley.

The Two Stooges didn't listen. The one Faith had targeted decided a crossbow beat a gun. A second later, he learned the truth. He landed right next to Damini, and blood pooling beneath him.

Another shot rang out, and sparks flew off the dumpster. Olivia ducked out of sight as a new firefight broke out. Faith didn't bother keeping track of who fired where. Sweeping her legs into the last of Damini's bodyguards, she knocked him off balance. She got to her knees, retrieved her stake from Damini's corpse, and made quick work of stabbing it into his heart.

Now what? Olivia was still playing peek-a-boo with the snipers upstairs. Faith scanned the alley more closely. Munch and Prasad were helping out from doorways near the law office, and… More good guys, Junior Slayers, members of the St. Reginald and what had to be the rest of Chelsea's crew, leaned over the rooftops of other buildings.

The cavalry had arrived.

Maybe they would survive after all. Faith felt a surge of hope that was choked off when the door to the law office opened. Nicole and the last of _her_ Juniors exited. More of Damini's army followed.

Disregarding her own safety, Faith ran to help. She made it only a few steps before a lightning bolt struck the building behind her. Bricks and mortar showered Faith, knocking her to her knees. Her ears rang. Coughing and blinking from the dust, she saw Willow emerge from the destruction. Face a death-mask of black veins, blood streaming from her nose and ears, Willow stood fearlessly in the middle of the alley. "This ends now," she called out, and the words reverberated between the buildings. "Or I destroy you all."

No one moved. Faith wasn't sure she even breathed. Then Chelsea walked unsteadily out from the cluster of Junior Slayers. Anshu stepped from behind the same dumpster as Olivia. The prophecy was nearly complete. Only one person was missing. It took several tries for Faith to stand, and all of her considerable will-power to walk across the alley to flank Chelsea.

Men and women crept out of the building burning behind Damini's body. They formed an uneasy semi-circle around Chelsea, Faith, and Anshu. Nicole, the Juniors, and the St. Reginald completed the circle. They glowered at each other with weapons half-raised.

"You do not have the right to name a new Lord," one of Damini's men finally announced. Pointing at Chelsea, he asked, "Where is the Staff of the Nations? Where is the wampum that will symbolize the commitment of the new Takarihoken?"

* * *

Good questions. Ones Chelsea couldn't answer – so she didn't even try. "I am Chelsea, Royaneh of the St. Reginald." She began the ritual speech Balaji had hurriedly taught her what felt like weeks earlier. Willow had been right. This had to end. "Know you, my Lords, that I have taken the deer's antlers from the brow of Rajendra, the emblem of his position and token of his greatness."

"Pretender!" The man who had spoken before pointed a rifle at Chelsea.

She braced for the bullet, but it never came. Instead, the Flint warrior grunted and pitched forward. Four young girls, clearly wounded, limped over his prone body.

One of them carried a staff.

Another had strings of shells looped through her belt.

"Sorry we're late." A slight Midwestern twang flavored the words as the Junior Slayer in the lead continued. "Traffic was a bitch. Guess everyone wanted to be part of the party."

They'd made it. Faith's kids had come through. Tears threatened as Chelsea regarded the four who should have been ten. She would never forget their sacrifice. Holding out her hands, she accepted the Staff and the strings of wampum then swept the alley and rooftops in search of one particular clan member.

There. One the roof next to Fin.

Voice ringing with renewed strength, Chelsea told the assembled audience, "I give you Vyomesh. Behold him. He has now become a Confederate Lord. See how splendid he looks."

A/N: The election ritual and speech Chelsea used is almost entirely fiction. However, I did take a few lines directly from the Constitution of the Iroquois Nations.


	46. Chapter 46

"What are you gonna' do?" Faith's soft question didn't disturb Willow, who continued to sleep peacefully on the couch at the far end of the room. Turning slightly, just enough to watch Nicole without losing her direct sight-line to Willow, she continued. "Heard Giles wanted ya to stay here."

A tired smile did nothing to lighten Nicole's strained expression. In fact, it highlighted the new lines fanning out from the corners of her eyes and bisecting her forehead. "He called yesterday." A little of her exhaustion faded as mischief flared. "From the air."

Faith snorted. "Bet he'll bitch at me about it when he gets here." She knew he wouldn't, though. The call had been important. And it had been even more important that the request come straight from Giles. Waiting Nicole out, Faith locked her jaw on a yawn. God, she was tired. Too tired to waste much time getting Nicole ready to make her decision.

Her patience stretched to the limit as Nicole's silence dragged on.

Finally, Nicole shifted. Her shoulders slumped. "I told him I'd stay."

"Ya don't sound happy, kid." That bothered Faith. Bothered her so much she'd had her _own _conversation with Giles as he flew across the Atlantic. "Thought you were headed back home after this trip. Sure there's someone else that could babysit the Chief." She'd tried to tell that to Giles – over and over – during their talk. Well, shouting match, on Faith's side.

Shaking her head, Nicole denied Faith's assertion. "Who? Crash?"

Of course, Nicole picked the worst Plan B. "Hard to run over anything out here," Faith joked. Then her patience ran out. "Don't do this unless ya wanna." There were hundreds, hell, thousands, of Slayers across the globe now. Any one of them could come and sit on the St. Reginald Hellmouth. The Council was done putting kids in places they didn't want to be. If Faith had to make that point herself…

A finger poked into Faith's side, breaking into her dark thoughts. "Stop plotting ways to torture Mr. Giles. I kind of like him." Nicole sighed and stretched her arms over her head, eyes sliding away from Faith's level stare.

"Don't fuck with me, Nic." It was a clear warning. Faith wasn't playing anymore.

Still looking away, Nicole mumbled. "You said it, Faith. There are so many other Junior Slayers. Why me? I'm not… I don't…."

"You think I'd let 'em put ya here if I didn't trust you?" Faith's voice rose until a mumble from Willow forced her back under control. "Nic, I don't know why I was even here for this trip. It was you that got the Chief to trust us. You understood all that prophecy crap. You kept the other kids form freaking when Red let the magic out." Reaching out, she gripped Nicole's shoulder. "See a pattern?" Driving the point home, she said in an intense whisper, "It's all you, Nic."

Nicole flushed and her head dropped.

"I thought bein' a Slayer was the best thing ever. Super powers. Fightin' vamps. Kicking ass." Faith shivered and let the memories roll. Her chest tightened, an echo of the piercing pain she'd felt when Kendra died and the Slayer gift slammed through her. "I was a fuckin' idiot. There's more to being a Slayer than bein' a bad ass." Shaking Nicole slightly, Faith went on. "If Red wasn't standin' right behind me, I'da got us all killed. Just like I did back in Sunnydale when the First was there. You're better than me. Hell, maybe better than B – and you just started."

She felt Nicole stiffen, watched the younger girl's shoulder go back and her head lift. Tears glittered in her eyes. "I'm so scared, Faith."

Faith moved into Nicole's personal space and wrapped an arm around Nicole's shoulders. "Be surprised if ya weren't, kid. But I ain't lettin' Giles stick you here without help. Got a couple teams of Juniors headin' this way. Simmins is gonna be the Head Watcher, and Amy's backing you up. And if that ain't enough, you let me know and I'll let you boss me around – for a couple of days 'till you get right again."

A watery giggle answered Faith's vow.

Crisis possibly averted, Faith stepped back. "So, gonna ask one last time, and you better convince me, kid. Do you _want _to stay?"

There was a new, shorter silence. Then Nicole said, "I do, Faith. And I swear I won't let you or Mr. Giles down."

"Never doubted ya, kid." Faith relaxed slightly, one of her worries out of the way. "Now get the fuck outta here. Giles'll be here before ya know it. Might want to grab some sleep before then. Gonna be one big meeting for you once he shows up."

Nicole groaned dramatically. "Is it too late to change my mind?" She grinned before striding down the hall.

Her departure left Faith alone with her other problem. And that problem sat up on the coach, hair flattened on one side and clothes hopelessly rumpled from her nap. "I don't know why you keep saying you're a terrible leader. All Nicole needed was your stamp of approval."

"Mmm." Faith wasn't going to debate that point. Knees a little quivery, she stepped all the way into the room and closed the door. It took two tries to turn the small push-button lock.

"Faith?" Willow's voice was suddenly tight with tension.

Without answering, Faith walked across the thick carpet and sank to her knees next to Willow's perch. It was now or never. Praying she didn't blow this – or chicken out – Faith tucked a strand of Willow's hair behind her ear with a shaking hand. "Been thinking a lot." Even with Slayer healing, her arm had taken a while to mend. And then she'd spent days and nights watching over Willow as she detoxed from the Black Magic.

Eyes so wide they threatened to spring from her head, Willow stared at Faith.

"Nicole ain't the only one scared, Red. Willow," Faith corrected quickly. Red was someone from her past. Willow was, hopefully, her future. "What you did in the alley, that's big shit. You can't keep doin' that. One of them witches from England said you shoulda died from all the black magic. She said you could've lost control and we'da never got you back."

Willow protested immediately. "No, Faith. It wasn't that…"

The hand that had tucked Willow's hair now gently covered Willow's lying lips. "You can't keep doin' this," Faith repeated firmly. "It's time to get out of the game."

"No!" Willow managed to yank away for a second.

Faith was off the floor in a flash, crowding Willow into the space where the arm of the couch met the back cushions. "Yes." She emphasized her point with a soft, brushing kiss. "I called Xander a coupla days ago. The Council got the land you wanted for that Slayer School, and he's already got a crew working on the first building."

She kissed Willow again, agonizingly soft and slow, hyper aware of even the smallest movement or protest. There weren't any. Rather, Willow tilted her head, opened her lips, and became an active participant. The kisses went from soft to hard and fast. Almost desperate. Wrenching away, breathing harsh and loud, Faith admitted what she'd discovered with all the soul searching in the dead of night. "It'd kill me if somethin' happened to you, Willow." The pretty speeches she'd written as she sat at Willow's bedside, watching her thrash and moan from magical withdrawal all disappeared. Faith was alone with feelings she didn't understand and had no way to voice. "You gotta stay safe. Run the school. Hell, join B in where-the-fuck ever."

"Only if you're with me," Willow stated firmly. She stroked a finger along Faith's jaw, raising goose pimples. "I don't go anywhere without you now."

Warmth exploded in Faith's chest at the declaration. Willow always knew just what to say. Faith wished for the same talent. "Ain't lettin' you go, Willow. You wanna teach school, I'll be right there, yellin' at the Juniors. Making sure they understand you're off limits." It wasn't what she wanted to say, hadn't come out anywhere close to right, but it was enough to make Faith's hands slick with sweat.

She prayed Willow didn't notice that as she slid her fingers beneath Willow's T-shirt. Fuck, the now-exposed skin was so soft. So hot.

The flush on Willow's cheeks expanded, flowing down her neck until it stained the pale skin over her collarbone. "Why am I off limits?" she murmured as she wiggled and writhed into a nearly prone position, lying mostly beneath Faith on the couch.

As if they were two pieces of a puzzle, Faith's leg fit between Willow's. Her thigh pressed against the zipper of Willow's jeans. Heat blasted through the denim, scorching Faith. Lost in the moment, Faith didn't answer. Her hands rose, pushing Willow's shirt up and over her shoulders and head.

"Son of a bitch." More pale skin, dusted with freckles. Hard nipples poked through the thin material of a bra. Faith couldn't think. Couldn't breathe. But she somehow managed to undo the tiny clasp between Willow's breasts and cup the freed mounds. Pinching the nipples hardened them further and added a dash of color. Intrigued, Faith spent long moments pinching and pulling and nipping.

By the time she stopped, Willow undulated beneath her. Her fingers were locked around Faith's shoulders.

"You're beautiful," Faith told Willow. It was mind boggling. She needed to see more. She needed to see _all _of Willow. Standing for a minute, she unfastened Willow's jeans and pulled them completely off. Willow's underwear followed. The white socks could wait, and Faith enjoyed the contrast of the peach bra framing Willow's breasts. That could stay, too.

Returning to the couch, Faith braced herself above Willow. She kissed the concave hollow of Willow's stomach. Ran her teeth along a cute string of freckles on Willow's left hip. Her fingers slid easily through the wild, wet auburn curls covering Willow's vulva.

A twitch of Willow's hips and a stuttering breath announced Faith's arrival at Willow's clit.

She teased the swollen nub for a moment and then moved lower. Spreading Willow's outer labia, Faith lightly stroked the thin inner folds. They glistened and their color deepened with each touch.

"Faith. Oh, Goddess." Willow's voice was a hoarse benediction.

So close to the prize, Faith hesitated. This wasn't what she was used to. This wasn't a stranger she'd picked up in a bar. This was Willow… As she lay frozen, Willow reached between them and twined her fingers with Faith's. Together, they teased in and out of Willow's core, dragging dampness up to coat her swelling clit.

Willow's hand fell away as Faith woke up and concentrated her efforts there. Pushing the skin of the hood back with the fingers of one hand, she used the forefinger and second finger of the other to stroke along the sides of Willow's swelling bundle of nerves.

She could tell Willow was close now. Her thighs trembled and her back had arched.

Gently, ever so gently, Faith slid her fingers around and around, never directly over Willow's clit. Willow whimpered. Her muscles got impossibly stiffer until she vibrated beneath Faith.

Lowering her head, Faith gave Willow the final push over the edge. She lashed the tip of her tongue over the taut nub begging for her attention.

"Faith!" The hands that had helped Faith before now latched painfully into her hair, holding her against Willow's clit. Willow bucked and shook, and Faith was sure she'd have bald patches. She didn't care. It would so be worth it.

Finally, when Willow dropped, boneless, to the cushions, Faith raised her head. "You're off limits 'cause you're mine, Will."


End file.
